Pierce's Law
by Altology
Summary: AU Mafia!Santana Detective!Brittany. She's here, there, everywhere. You think that you would have remembered but no. Your memory failed you when you needed it the most and now, she's in your life. You know there should be a certain boundary but again, everything works against you.
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

"Fucking son of a bitch," you muttered as you clutched on to your shoulder. Your black tank top was drenched in blood and perspiration. Blood dribbled down your face from the fresh split across your forehead where the gunman slammed the butt of the rifle on your head. Your right hand dangled uselessly by your side as you made your way through the basement. A layer of water covered the floor, making every footstep you take audible as you plodded across the rooms. Blood of those worthless gunmen that you've taken down stained the brick walls of the basement as their bodies laid lifelessly on the floor.

You shook your head and blinked to try and shake away the blood from trickling into your eyes. Red spread across your vision, causing you to halt your movements as your eyes stung, a desperate attempt by the eyes to remove impurities. Blinking rapidly, your vision focused enough for you to make out the path before you.

The sound of water droplets hitting the layer of liquid on the floor echoed around the enclosed area. "You idiot!"

You tensed at the voice, recognizing it immediately. Crouching low and slowly making your way towards the wall nearest to the voice, you released the hold on your shoulder. Raising your left hand, you clamped your jaws between the slide and pulled it back to allow a round of magazine to load into the chamber before releasing it to let it move completely forward.

"Get the fuck out of here and make fucking sure that she's dead before coming back!"

You took your lower lips between your teeth at the instructions given. It was obviously aimed at you, to eliminate you before he gets eliminated. Splatters were heard as the man hurried out of the room to avoid being killed by the man barking commands. Taking a deep breath, you steadied myself before taking a step back quietly.

**BANG!**

His eyes widened at your admission but was too slow to react as the bullet pierce deep into his chest. His body dropped to the floor with a splash. Without wasting another second, you appeared by the door and held the gun up, aimed in the direction of the man. Taken aback by the sudden outburst, he threw his hands into the air and backed away. "You don't have to do this. We can talk this through."

You scoffed as you stared impassively at him. "Talk? There's nothing to talk about." Just because you're a woman and younger than most of his henchmen doesn't mean you can't fight.

**Click.**

The telltale clack of a hammer cocking on the gun sounded in your ears. The feeling of a barrel pressed against the side of your forehead made you gulp. Your heart was pounding against your ribs. If not for the sound of water leaking onto the puddles on the floor, it would've been pretty audible.

"Oh ho, look who's having the final laugh now, Lopez." The man who was previously threatened by your firearm now relaxed and stepped forward. He took the time to smooth out his suit and fix his tie. His hair had turned an ashen grey from age and his wrinkles visible at the corner of his eyes.

"Put your gun down." The voice beside you commanded slowly.

You clenched your jaws together as your slowly lowered your gun. "Now, slowly back out of the room." He said, with the gun still held firmly against your head.

Blood was rushing to your head as fear administered itself in your brain. Is it going to end this way, without you avenging those who have died because of that merciless bastard who had bathed in the blood of your family?! He snuck a mole into your family just so he could destroy your family from within.

"Now drop the gun,"

With your right arm disabled, you could do nothing but concede. You dropped your gun and steeled yourself for what's going to happen next.

**BANG!**

You flinched and closed your eyes at the sound of a gunshot but realized seconds later that it didn't hit you. You look to your right and saw that the man who previously held the gun against your head had his eyes rolled back, his balance threatening to fall any second now. Instinctively, you grabbed the gun in his hand and aimed it towards the man who was gloating. A loud splash echoed around the basement as the man dropped dead. His arms shot back up in a submissive pose again as your arm resumed its threatening position. A coward that only relied on his henchmen. And when they're out of the way, he's just a useless bastard.

With him cornered and without anything to retaliate with, you took a glance back to see a figure approaching. "Stop moving forward or I'll shoot you before I shoot him."

Either that person didn't hear you or refused to acknowledge your threat. You turned to face the stranger with the gun. In a swift motion, the gun was wrenched out of my grip. You snarled at the stranger as she removed the gun from your hand. Her eyes seemed to pierce into you as she held your gaze. Her eyes were a blue so pale and vivid that it seemed like jolts of electricity was coursing through it.

"The cards are stacked against you." The stranger said as she dissembled the gun with expert speed, its pieces clattering to the floor. She was wearing a leather glove, possibly to prevent her finger print from getting onto the gun. "I need him alive." She jutted her chin towards the man who was eyeing the both of you.

"Detective." He said as he recognized the blonde beside you. She was wearing a beige tank top, a pair of aviators hung in the middle of her top and a pair of baggy army pants. A baseball cap sat snugly on her head, with her block locks hanging loosely.

"Glad you're still alive, Brown." The detective said as she stepped into the room and whipped out a handcuff, slapping it onto Marcus Brown's wrists.

You eyed the detective wearily as she frisked him. After risking your life and walking through that basement littered with bodies and stained with blood, you've reached the end to Brown being arrested by a detective? And she didn't even have a scrape on her while you're bloodied and battered.

But even so, there was something telling you to let it go. If it wasn't for her, you would've ended up with your skull blown up and your brain scattered, or made a laughing stock by Marcus. You relaxed and stared at the duo that was walking towards you. The detective stopped before you and took out a piece of cloth, pushing it into your hand. She held Marcus at arm length before leaning forward so that she's whispering into your ear. "I'll pretend I didn't see you, and you weren't here. When you get out of here, head to street 22 and go into the first building you see. Go up to the second floor and knock on the door of the third apartment five times. When the person asked for identification, say 'Pierce'."

With that, she stepped back. A subtle smirk ghosted on her lips as she tugged at the handcuff on Marcus Brown's wrist to pull him along. You watched her go, your grimace softening at every step she took away from you and up onto the surface of New York City. The pain began to administer itself as your adrenaline wears off. Using the cloth on hand, you wiped your bloodied face and head up towards the surface. With her words in mind, you head for street 22. If she wanted to kill you or take you to the station, she would've done so. You would have probably be dead by now if it wasn't for her.

Staggering up the stairs of the building, you leaned your weight against the wall on your left for support as you trudged towards the apartment.

"Identify yourself," the voice sounded when you knocked on the door five times, as instructed.

"Pierce," you repeated the words said to you previously.

The sound of locks being slid off was followed by the creaking of the rusty door hinge. "Damn Pierce, forever doing this to me."

You narrowed your eyes in confusion at him as he pulled the door wider to let you in. As compared to the shady neighborhood, the apartment was neatly furnished. The man closed the door after you and slid the lock back into position before leading you to a room further in the apartment. "I'm Joe."

"Santana."

"I'm not going to ask what happened because Pierce always find the shittiest moment to appear, no matter what she's doing." He gave a warm smile, trying to melt the tension between the two of you. Maybe it was because he was used to strangers that were bloodied and battered showing up at his door saying 'Pierce', or maybe it was just his personality.

So, the detective from before. Her name is Pierce. Detective Pierce. You snickered at how the name suited her character. "Detective Pierce, huh?"

"She's a peculiar one. Or should I say, exclusive."

"Pardon?"

"She isn't like the other regular detective where they go around clasping criminals in handcuffs, or one that goes by the book." There's a distant look in his eyes, as if he's recalling an incident. "She goes by her guts. And seemed like her guts seemed to be pointing towards you."

Towards you? Not wanting to probe any further or get yourself involved any more than you should, you gave a tight-lipped smile in return which he gladly accepted as an answer. He opened the door and revealed a surgical room. You raised by eyebrows in amusement as you stepped into the nauseatingly disinfected smelling room. He motioned towards the surgical bed in the middle of the room with his hand as he walked over to the sink at the corner of the room. As if he was a practiced doctor, he washed his hands and cleaned it with a paper towel before snapping on some rubber gloves.

You eyed him warily as he pulled out several surgical tools from various cupboards. Sensing the hole you were burning into his back by your stare, he glanced over his shoulder and smiled. "Relax, I'm not going to kill you. Pierce sent you here for a good reason, I suppose."

A good reason? What reason did she have for saving you? You were about to kill a man she wanted, the reason behind all the blood stained walls in the basement and the bodies littered on the ground of the basement. All the more she should be arresting you instead of helping you, let alone sending you to a doctor. What is it with her guts and what has it even got to do with you? Wait, is the doctor even certified?

He sat down on a wheeled chair and rolled over to you. Having noticed how your right arm dangled uselessly by your side when you stepped in, he felt around your shoulder for the dislocation. You hissed at the pain as he prodded around your joint. Satisfied with his analysis, he moved on to the split on your forehead. "You've lost a nasty amount of blood. I'm surprised you're still alive."

You rolled your eyes, "it'll take more than a few pint of blood to knock me down."

"With that tongue of yours, I guess you'll survive." He joked as he poured a solvent onto a piece of cloth and gently applied pressure to the area around the split on your forehead to remove the blood that had dried up during the fight with the gunmen. "I'll need to put you under for a while to get you fixed up. You okay with that?"

You nodded. Much as you want to get away from here as soon as possible, you wouldn't want to sit through the entire surgical process and watch yourself be medically mutilated by the man whom you still don't know was certified or not.

He pulled out an anesthesia mask and gently placed it over your mouth and nose. "Breathe and relax,"

Your eyelids slowly droop close as the anesthesia took effect.

* * *

**Having a writer's block from The Guardian and this idea popped into mind. Not sure if I should continue this or end it with a few quick chapters. Reviews are appreciated :) Beta-less, any mistakes made are mine.**


	2. Chapter One: Decisions

**Chapter One: Decisions**

Your heavy eyelids slowly opened to the dimmed lighting in the room. You blinked lazily for a few more times as your body slowly awaken from being forced asleep by the anesthesia. You swung your leg over the bed that you had been operated on and sat up. The sudden motion made your head spin for a while as blood rushed to your brain. You tried lifting your right arm, expecting it to be pretty banged up but the excruciating pain from before had been minimized. The little sting that you felt when you moved your hand was nothing compared to the sharp pain you've felt earlier. Bandages ran along the length of your shoulder to your elbow. Reaching up for your forehead, you felt a piece of gauze covering the split. The uneven edges told the tale of stitches that held the two separate skin together temporarily until it heals.

"You're up."

You turned my head towards the door and saw Joe entering with a sandwich in his hand. "How are you feeling?"

"Better. Thank you."

"You're welcome." He said as he took a seat on his stool and took a bite of his sandwich. "So, what's your plan for the future?"

Your gaze dropped to the tiles of the floor. Truth be told, when you went after Marcus Brown, you weren't expecting to step out of the building alive. And now that you're alive... "I don't know."

"That's a pity." He said with a mouthful of sandwich. "You know, the police academy is recruiting."

The police academy? You, a criminal's daughter? Is he pulling your leg? The look on your face must have announced your thoughts as Joe chuckled to himself.

You raised an eyebrow at him. "You're Lopez, Santana Lopez, right?"

Cautiously, you nodded your head. "Remember what I said about Pierce? That her guts pointed her towards you?"

"Why?"

Joe stopped eating entirely and started laughing. "There's no why. That's just how she is."

Not getting the answers you needed, you didn't have the reason to stick around much longer. After everything you've been through, you've learnt not to get too attached to people. Pushing yourself off the bed, you made your way out of the operating room.

"Not going to stay for a sandwich?"

You shook my head and glanced over your shoulders. "Thanks, again."

"Not a talker, are you? You're welcome. Take care of yourself now." He said before he threw the last of his sandwich into his mouth.

As you stepped out of the apartment, your mind wandered to what Joe had asked. You have no plans, family nor friends. There wasn't anything for you to live for anymore. Taking a deep breath, you shook the thought off out of your head. Joe didn't spend all that time on you just to let you have a second chance at dying again. And what's more, you have some things you got to handle before you make any decision regarding your future.

With a heavy heart, you began walking towards the direction of home. Your disheveled appearance didn't help much with discretion as numerous people looked in your direction and scanned your physical state. An elderly lady shot you a disapproving glance. Probably thinking that you're a rebel or some sort but you can't deny that. You're a messed up teen trudging your way home, hoping that you don't actually get assaulted before you reach the comfort of home.

A sleek, red Audi drove past you and you heard a screech shortly after. Your mind was too buzzed to even bother about it until a humming was heard as the car reversed and stopped beside you. "Santana?"

You blearily turned your head towards the voice and showed no sign of excitement or sort when you saw Sebastian stepping out of his car. Unlike your torn and tattered attire, he donned a casual navy button up shirt and khakis. Neat, considering how he wasn't involved in a gunfight and have men that were wielding weapons running after him. You groaned, because you're just picking flaws out of everybody. You're moody and irritable. Instead of offering a verbal reply, you stood your grounds and looked at him as he reached for you and pulled you close by your shoulders. "Sheesh, woman! Where have you been?"

You flinched because your shoulder was out of place just half an hour ago and his too-tight grip sent a sharp pain through your bones. Noticing your discomfort, he immediately released his hold on you. "Shit, I'm sorry."

Not trusting your tongue, you gave a slight nod. Your eyes are still hazed and Sebastian said nothing but opened the door of the passenger's seat for you. You sigh in defeat and settled into the car before he closed the door and made his way over to the driver's. At least you have a ride home, and you don't have to worry about being assaulted.

Without a word, Sebastian pressed his foot on the pedal while his hands took their positions on the steering wheel and gear shift. Pulling away from the boulevard, Sebastian started driving, and you're not sure where he's heading towards. And frankly, you don't care.

For the past few minutes since you've left Joe's apartment, your mind was cluttered with flashbacks. You were trying to hold yourself together and trying to block out those memories.

You gritted your teeth and willed yourself not to cry. Your senses heightened, when you're trying your darn best not to let your emotions get the better of you. You could hear the loud engine and the subtle shift of Sebastian's hands on the shifting knob, even the sound of your spit traveling down your throat as you swallowed.

Your nose felt sour and your throat ache. It's aching for the release, for you to just let the tears out instead of holding them back. There's a dull throb in you, as the emotions seemed to manifest into physical pain inside you and you felt your chest tighten.

You blinked once, then twice, and the watergates opened. Without the seat-belt restricting your movements, you bent over and buried your face in your hands as you tried to muffle your sobs and cries.

"Shit, shit shit shit!" You hear the panic in Sebastian's voice and you know it's because of you. He pulled over by the side of the road and hurriedly unbuckled his own seat-belt so he could reach you. His arms reached over the center console and over your shoulders. You would apologize for putting him in an awkward position as he tried to hold onto you but trying not to infiltrate your personal space at the same time, but words got stuck in your throat.

Tears continued streaming down your face as your buried it against Sebastian's chest.

"I got you, I got you." He cooed as he stroked his hand up and down your back, trying to soothe you. Your nails dig into his back and thankfully, your nails were trimmed.

To you, your life had been this game where you're placed in easy mode. The different obstacles were all triggered to be simple and could be easily overcome. Nobody prepared you for this shift where you're dropped into a new stage, with a different difficulty. You're lost, and you don't know what to do.

"Sorry." You muttered weakly as you composed yourself and pull away from him.

Sebastian seemed to understand and he returned to his seat, buckling up before moving the car away from the stationary position it had been for a few minutes that he held onto you.

He pulled into the driveway of the Lopez residence and tapped you gently to shake you out of the daze you were in. One second your mind was on the passing streets of New York, the next, your mind was elsewhere.

"We're here." He's trying to be patient for you, to be the friend that holds onto you when you're about to crumble.

You didn't even have the chance to answer or react because someone else opened the door nearest to you and pulled you out of the vehicle. You felt yourself crumble as you held onto the slim frame that was supporting you. A second round of cries escape your mouth. No matter how hard you willed yourself to, it never worked.

"I'll take it from here, thanks Seb."

"Take care of her, Quinn. I'll see you soon."

You felt Quinn nodding her response and you clung onto her desperately as you let the emotions you've held in for the past few hours pour from your eyes for the second time.

"We're going to get through this together. You're not alone." Quinn pacified you as she ran her fingers through your hair.

She slowly led you into your house, or what used to be your house. Now it just seemed like concretes and bricks piled together to shelter you from the harsh weathers. It's not going to be the same anymore because you felt the emotional shift of the residence in it.

"Go get yourself cleaned up and get some rest. I'll wake you up for dinner, okay?"

You slowly disentangle your limbs from Quinn and nodded weakly. She planted a firm kiss on your forehead, careful to avoid the stitched up wound, before she walked out of the door, quietly shutting it behind her.

Unbeknownst to you, she leaned against the closed door frame and one of her hand came up to cover her mouth as sobs threaten to escape from her mouth while the tears ran down her face. She's as affected as you but she needed to be strong for you. Your father was as much as a fatherly figure to her, as he was to you. When she saw Sebastian's car pulled up in the driveway, the only thing she knew was to get you. To hug you close, just so maybe, some of the pain will fade off from the familiar contact. But it burnt. It burnt even more when you cried silently while she's holding you. And while your tears were spilling without control, she was gathering every ounce of her will not to fall apart _with_ you.

Taking a huge intake of air, she composed herself and used the back of her hands to wipe away the tear stains before making her way towards the kitchen.

You stepped into the bathroom and slowly peeled the bloodstained clothing from your battered body and threw them thoughtlessly on the tiled floor before stepping into the showers.

The warm water hits you and your eyes closed in momentarily pleasure as the water trickled down your physique before it seeps into the drainage hole. You hissed in pain when the water came into contact with your stitched forehead. You let your body stay unmoved for a few minutes just to let the water wash away the top layer of dirt. Steam start to fog the glass doors from the change in temperature between the sheets of glass.

There's still a dull ache in your shoulder joint as you brought your arms up to lather the shampoo on your filth stained hair. You could feel the throb as it seemed to be in sync with your slowed heartbeat.

Then, you started to scrub yourself from top to bottom, erasing any lingering trace of dried blood from your body.

Finally satisfied with your cleansing, you stepped out of the steamy showers and grabbed the bathrobe that was folded and neatly placed on one of the racks mounted on the wall of the bathroom. You slipped into the bathrobe and tied it loosely around your waist before making your way out of the bathroom. Your mind was running wild with a hundred thoughts but you managed to prioritize them.

You're going to inherit the stature of the Lopez family, being in charge of the small trustworthy crew of a fifty men. Fifteen were those who actually dealt with your father's business, and the others were the minor runners. The so-called 'pawns'.

Your father never believed in strength in number. He stood on his beliefs that a smaller crew, or they call it 'family', would bond tighter than a loose gang of thousands. The men that were with him had been specially selected and trained by him. And now that he's gone, you're going to be in charge.

People would try to overthrow you, because you're a girl and also, you're barely 23. It's a decision you'll have to make, and make it soon. Because the other families weren't as polite as gentlemen. They would strike while the iron is hot and in this case, your father's death. They're going to take advantage of his death as the Lopez's weakness and try to overthrow your family.

You have two decisions on your hand. The first would be the one that's going to test your determination and wits - taking over what your father left behind and start a legacy. Two, the first and last conversation you had with Joe - join the police academy.

Your mind emptied itself as seconds goes by and slowly, fatigue began to set in. You allowed the comforting pull of fatigue to lull you into sleep before everything goes black.

You are alive for a reason. And speaking of which, you have some unfinished business to take care of. Something your father left unfinished. But for now, you're just going to have to let your injuries heal a little before hitting the road, else risk a blood bath in your own blood again.

**[Flashback]**

Your pulse quicken with the heavy bass and loud beats that reverberates through your car, a Mazda RX 7 that your papi had gotten for you as a birthday present. Undoubtedly, he would have somebody tinkered with the mechanics to make it a faster ride, knowing your habits of participating in drag races. A Chevrolet Corvette C6 and Lexus LFA pulled up beside you. Rolling down the tinted windows, Sebastian gave you an exaggerated wink before he stepped out of the vehicle. You left your vehicle as well and stood before your cars and scanned the crowd. Mustangs, BMWs, Chevys littered the entire place. Sometimes, you wondered if those street cars that were parading around even raced. Their paint jobs sleek and untouched, as if they're only for show. All the horsepower and torque, nah. Others seemed to be satisfied with watching as they cheered on the cars that were lined up at the starting line. Women, or girls, with clothing that exposed their butt cheeks every single time they bent over, flirted their way around with the drivers who welcomed the attention.

_Follow me, Follow me, Follow me, Follow me, Follow me, I got the  
k-k-keys  
Follow me, Follow me, Follow me, Follow me, Follow me, got the  
k-k-keys_

Your eyes hardened when you caught sight of a certain Jew who had a Mohawk on his head. He leaned against his convertible with two arm candies by his side. He caught your gaze and he smirked. Removing his hands from the two girls by his side, he pushed himself off his car and made his way towards you.

"Hey babe,"

You scoffed and turned your head away, obviously unimpressed by him. He gave a nonchalant shrug at your behavior but he continued speaking, knowing that you're listening. "How about a race? Five large."

He's challenging you, and you're tempted to knee him in the balls for even attempting to talk to you. Two days ago, he was in your family's garage, banging one of the racer chick against the car. You're not really sure if you're repulsed or appalled because he had the audacity to do it in your turf. What made it worse was the fact that he WAS your boyfriend. And now, he looked so smug and you wanted to wipe that darn crooked smile off his face.

"Done." You accept his challenge and looked into his eyes with a straight face.

"Great. See you at the line of the quarter-mile. Nice choice of outfit, by the way." His eyes raked up and down your body once, taking in the look of you wearing a white tee that hugged your body and a leather jacket with a pair of daisy dukes.

You couldn't help the automatic eye roll that your eyes did as you folded your arms across your chest. He gave one final wink before turning to walk back to his arm candies.

"Why did you even agree to race with him? You know he race dirty!" Quinn chided. She had stood silent and watched the entire interaction between you and your ex without interrupting.

"I know, and that's why I want to race him. To let him know that I'm not that weak."

"You don't have to prove anything to him, Santana. You're putting yourself at risk!"

"He wouldn't do anything extreme to kill me, Quinn."

"You wouldn't know what's going on in his mind!"

You rolled your eyes again. Quinn always acted like an overprotective elder sister although she technically wasn't your sister but she was taken in by your papi at a young age. You appreciate her acting sensible and the one to knock senses into you but sometimes, you can't help but shake your head at her maturity act. "And again, Quinn, stop being so uptight."

Before she could even reply, you rounded to the driver's door and slipped into your car. You ease your car out between Sebastian's and Quinn's and made your way to the quarter-mile mark. Santos, the ringer, stretched his palm out and you slapped the roll of cash onto his open palm. He smiled and nodded his head in respect and you repeated his actions, only with the lack of smile on your face.

One of his assistants, a ginger, walked to the gap where your car was separated from Puck's and stood there for a moment before turning to Puck. The Jew gave a nod before she turned to you, getting a nod of response. With both parties' consent, she raised her right hand. You put your foot down on the gas pedal and your car revved. She raised her left hand before bringing both hands down.

You pulled your foot off the clutch and applied pressure to the gas pedal. The wheels screeched as it kicked the dusts and propelled the car forward, leaving behind a fog of dust. You turned to find Puck looking at you with a raised eyebrow. His hands worked while he kept his eyes on you. Holding onto your pride, you maintained eye contact as you shifted through gears. He gave a smirk before turning away and before you had time to react, he maneuvered his car closer to yours. You heard a loud screech as your paint scratched against his car's. The momentarily shock caused you to swerved to your left, driving off the quarter-mile course.

He succeeded in his dirty trick. You could see his smug smile even though his car had already sped down the lane, leaving you in shame by the side. "FUCK!" You slammed your palm against the steering wheel, feeling stupid to be played by him. Quinn was right, you should've listened.

But the point was, you never did. Not once.

After taking a minute or two, you press your foot on the gas pedal and slowly made your way back to where Quinn was located. Her eyes were narrowed and her lips were pursed into a thin line in annoyance. But she was never one to reprimand you because she knew that you wouldn't listen, and also, you had already learnt your lesson.

Out of frustrations, you stepped out of your Mazda and tugged off the leather jacket and threw it against the body of your paint scrapped car. You pinched the bridge of your nose, trying to calm yourself while the other rested on your hip as you paced back and forth your car.

When you opened your eyes, you caught sight of another racer. A woman. Aviators hid her eyes from public view, a black tank top with a faded purple jacket tied around her waist and a pair of skinny jeans clung onto her body. Blonde hair flowed casually and her jaws moved as she chewed on the gum in her mouth. She peered through the slight exposure of the aviators when she used her index finger to tilt it down slightly. You caught sight of the bright blue irises and you're pretty sure she was looking at you too. Her lips curled at the corners slightly, so subtle that you would've missed it if you weren't looking at her. She pushed the aviators back to conceal her eyes from public and turned away from you.

You watched as she made her way towards… Puck? Your eyes narrowed in confusion as she leaned in and whispered something into his ears, causing him to grin. You feel your temper rising but you couldn't tear your eyes away so you continued watching her.

Your eyes followed her as she made her way to her car – a Nissan GT-R. The car had no vinyl, but a red neon underglow. She stepped into the vehicle and made her way towards the start line, where things started to click in your head. She challenged Puck to a race and that squirrel as a head would never back down any challenge, let alone one by a racer chick.

Unknowingly, you're starting to feel uncomfortable for the blonde. You're not sure if she had caught the previous race of yours to know Puck's dirty tricks but there's no rules set even though most of the drivers actually race for the thrill of it, not to endanger others' lives.

_A ella le gusta la gasolina  
Dame mas gasolina  
Como le encanta la gasolina  
Dame mas gasolina_

You rolled your eyes at the music. Although it did provide some ambiance, you have no idea why it was always Spanish songs by Spanish rappers. You bet half of the racers here have no idea what the rapper was rapping about.

The two cars sped past the starting line and Puck was leading. If you were being true to yourself, you would rather the blonde lose than to risk getting injured because of that asshole. She was tailgating him. You watched as she slowly drove away from Puck's car to the side and sped forward a little. Her bumpers were aligned with his car's mud guard. They past the half-quarter when the Nissan GT-R collide against his car and drove against his car.

You snorted in amusement and you caught Quinn whipping her head in your direction as your tried to contain the laughter that was bubbling in you, so you bit down on your lower lips as you watched Puck's car swerved out of the lane, allowing the blonde's Nissan to drive passed it without much difficulty and eventually past the finish line.

No doubt she made your day entirely better because the scowl on Puck's face looked so darn sour that you thought it would've stuck on his face permanently.

**[End of flashback]**

**Present**

You awaken to the sound of rain pelting a glass window. Groggily, you open your eyes and wince when the skin on your forehead stretch a little from movement, pulling the stitches. A lightning bolt bursts over the city. Thunderclouds pour down rain and you shuffle out of bed. You put on a white tank top and a pair of shorts before you exit your room to head to the kitchen.

Quinn stop in her track when she sees you going down the stairs. She smiles but you can see the underlying sadness in her eyes, and how the bags under her eyes seems more prominent. "I was about to go and get you."

You take the few steps down and walk alongside her into the dining room where a few other workers, or you prefer to call them cooks, buzz around the room to set up your dinner. Sometimes you wonder why is it that they take the task of preparing a meal so seriously but you never questioned it, not when your father was still around. You sit and watch in silence as they place several plates of food on the dining table. A few men in suit stand rigidly by the door keeping watch. Guards.

Everything suddenly seem to be much clearer, now that you're actually paying attention to them. Your conscience is telling you to invite them to sit together with you and Quinn at the neatly crafted oak dining table for dinner. But your brain snaps that thought into half because they're your father's henchmen. If you treat them too nicely, they'll start to climb over your head. So you opt to keep your mouth shut and just let it remain that way.

The two of you ate in silence and when she stands up to leave the dining room, you finally open your mouth to say something. "Quinn, can I have a word with you?"

She looks at you with a puzzled look but she nods and follows you as you make your way out to the mansion's backyard. You take a deep breath and look up at the sky. "It's nice out here, isn't it?"

You're never good with expressing your feelings. Everything you need, everything you wanted, was given to you since you could remember. But that factor of security had been taken away from you. Your father is dead.

"Yeah…"

"Ricardo Ciel Lopez wasn't just a father of Santana Cielo Lopez, wasn't just the husband of Maribel Rita Lopez, wasn't just the head of the Lopez Familia." You turn to Quinn. "He was also the father of Quinn Fabray. Legitimate or not, he was, and still is, our father. You don't have to put up a strong front for me, Quinn."

Quinn smiled, but tears are running down her cheeks so you pull her into a hug. You're shorter than her but that doesn't matter right now. You broke down in the afternoon and she was the one to hold onto you, so now you're the one to catch her.

You let her cry in your arms until you feel her pulling back slightly. She sniffs and you wait for her to compose herself. There's an unspoken gratitude between the both of you, and it didn't need to be voiced.

"Help me with running the family." You voice is firm and you hold her gaze. There's authority in your voice but not in a demanding tone. You need her help, and she knows. Your statement got affirmed by a nod. You smile and stands up, offering your hand for her to take.

She takes your hand and you help her up on her feet. "I'm going to go into papi's room. You should go and get some rest."

She separates from you once the two of you reach the stairs leading up to the bedrooms. With a heavy heart, you make your way to the door which will surely invoke memories that you kept in your mind. But you've got to do it. That stoic front of yours isn't just for the henchmen to see. It is something that's going to be necessary for you from now on.

You push open the door and step into the carpeted office. The faint whiff of cigar lingers in the air since the door haven't been open since the day your father left. A bookshelf filled with books sits behind a leather couch and you wonder for a minute if your father even had time to read. You walk to his work table and runs your finger across the length of the table. Documents litter the table top and you walk around it to the leather swivel chair.

The few times you entered the room while he was at work, he was sucking on his cigar and typing away at the computer on his desk.

He wasn't one to neglect you, that's for sure. Because despite being the head of a mafia family, he made sure to spend time with you.

There was a time when he wore a sleeveless denim shirt when he was out with you and Quinn. That was when you're both fifteen, and you enjoyed being in his company because that's when he felt completely at ease. No suit, no bodyguards, just the three of you walking along the streets.

People casted judgmental looks towards the three of you. Why? The both of you had your arms hooked around his, and his arms were littered with tattoo. Two teenage girls with arms around a man who was almost twice their age and covered in tattoos? The stereotypical idea that came to mind.

When you were younger, at age eleven, you asked him why did he get his arms inked. His reply was simple.

"Because they signify something, and it is valuable to me. But it being valuable, they cannot strip me of my tattoo like how they can rob me of my gold." He lowered himself and rolled up the sleeve of his shirt. "See this, mija?" You nodded. There's a baby angel curled up tattooed onto his left bicep. "I got this when your mami had you. Because you're an angel and I don't want anybody taking you from me."

"Then what about mami? Do you have one for her?" Your mother died when you were nine, entrusting you to your dad. Why or how she died, your father never told you. All you remember was your dad coming home one day and his eyes were puffy and sunken. Then he told you to get changed and he never said a word throughout the entire drive to the memorial. You sat quiet at the passenger side and watched the shrubbery fly pass.

He smiled and wrapped his large hand around yours and held it to your chest. "Your mami, is here."

When you were six, you met Sebastian. Your memory is fuzzed, but your caretaker always retold you the story of how the two of you met. She recounted that day when she went to fetch you home from elementary school, you were talking to a boy who had a mischievous smile plastered on. You said he threw a stick at one of the chubby boy in class and then ran around the 'jungle' while the boy chased in futile attempt because he just couldn't catch up. And that was when you decided to befriend him.

Your papi returned home one day with a blonde girl by his side. You were twelve. And you never said a word to her because you were watching her, observing her. Your father never told you why she was there but all he said was, "mija, meet Quinn. She's going to be living with us."

You never minded Quinn, because she was there with you when your father got too busy. High school was an annoyance because of the boys that would follow you and Quinn and pester the both of you to no end. The chauffeured rides were appreciated because that was the barriers that kept them at bay. But it doesn't stops them, does it?

Quinn was always the one to thank the driver when he dropped you both to school and back home while you would just smile, hoping that he caught your gesture. You've grown up to be guarded, but so was Quinn, but in different ways. Your stoic expression seldom faltered while Quinn had an angelic front. She could have smacked a racket across one of the jock's face and claimed that it wasn't her and the teacher would've believed her. Not saying she had done that.

Nobody knew, except Sebastian, that the two of you actually partake in a few of the after school 'activities' related to your papi. The both of you weren't blind that your father was a mafia leader. The number of guards and wealth was an indication but you didn't pry too much until you're sixteen.

And now you're twenty two, everything came crashing down.

You switch on the computer and fiddle with his ball pen while it boots up. A password prompt appears and you try your luck with your birthdate.

**'Incorrect Password'**

You try Quinn's.

**'Incorrect Password'**

You glance around the room while you think until your line of vision lies on a framed photo that sits on the window frame.

You type in your mother's birthdate.

**'Incorrect Password'**

You huff and attempts it again with another date.

**'Welcome.'**

Your chest tightens. Your papi made the anniversary of their wedding as his password. It shouldn't come as a surprise to you but most adult would've chosen to remarry should their spouse died ten years ago but your papi didn't. He remained single even though women flocked to him.

Every anniversary, a bouquet of white roses would be delivered to your house and your papi would promptly leave after the bouquet was received. He would return home empty-handed and you don't need to be a genius to know where he went.

He went to the cemetery where he would lower the bouquet before your mami's tombstone and sat there for an hour, talking.

Because of curiosity, both you and Quinn followed him once. And never again.

You scan his desktop, cringing at how cluttered his files are. After a few attempts of opening the files, you shake your head. Everything is foreign to you. You're going to need some serious help with this. The only person that can help you is Will Schuester, your father's right hand man.

You shut down the computer and remain seated in his chair for a little longer. Your fingers toyed with the things it came into contact with until it hits a metal casing. His customized zippo. You run your thumb over the engraved letters before squeezing your palm around it, holding it tightly in your hand.

You hold onto the zippo and make your way out of the room. The cool metal warming up as you twirl it around in your hand.

**You are Santana Lopez, Head of the Lopez Familia.**

* * *

**Thank you for the first three reviews prompting me to continue :)**  
**I actually had a different idea on how this story was going to go. But somehow, I changed my mind. I was going to make Santana listen to Joe and head to the academy but then I figured it wouldn't be that fun. And I've a few chapters already planned out and I've actually included some really awkward encounters between S&B but that'll be a few chapters along. Hopefully I still have your attention.**


	3. Chapter Two: Acquaintance

**A/N I'm finding a beta, hopefully I can get a beta on board by this weekend and that this will be the last unbeta-ed chapter. Just wanted to give an update so that people wouldn't get bored of waiting. Bear with me until I get a beta. **

**To the Guest suggesting I get a beta: I'm heeding your advice and I've found someone who is willing to beta for me but it will take some time for them to look through the story because she(I think?) is only able to go through it on Sunday. **  
**To the others that have reviewed: Thank you for the reviews :) **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Glee.**

* * *

**Chapter Two: Acquaintance **

"Identify yourself."

"Lopez, Santana Lopez."

The locks snap unlock to reveal the doctor that patched you up the previous day. You smile and steps into the apartment, taking a casual glance around while Joe click the locks back into place. "What do I owe the pleasure today, Miss Lopez?"

You narrow your eyes playfully at him before following him into the kitchen. "You eat sandwiches every day?"

"What?" He says as he hold the sandwich up. "I like bread."

You snorts and take a seat across him. There's a reason why you're here today. "Do Detective Pierce know who I am?"

He shrugs and takes a bite of his sandwich. "I don't really know."

"If she doesn't, can you keep it from her?"

"Why?"

You whip out your gun and points it in his face. His mouth hangs open as his movements freeze. His eyes switch between your eyes and your finger on the trigger. You finger tighten around the trigger and his eyes flutter shut.

A soft laughter escapes between your lips and he slowly peel his eyes open. You lower you gun and squeeze the trigger.

**Click!**

It's empty. You just wanted to scare him, and also make your point across. You're capable of ending him without him knowing why.

But the fear in his eyes soon melt into anger as he reach across the table and smacks you across your forehead. You yelp in pain as his hand accidentally swipes across the stitch on your head.

"Shit! I forgot about that, sorry! But fuck! You scared the shit out of me!" He walks around the table and crouches in front of you, taking your head with his hands and taking a look at the wound. "It'll probably take a couple of days before I can remove the stitch."

"Who says I want you to remove it for me?" You say it jokingly.

"Fine." He removes his hands and stands up, returning to his sandwich.

"That's what you get for patching people up, especially when you know that they're from a mafia family. You brain could have been in splats."

"I never doubted Pierce." His words are straight to the point and holds no underlying meaning. He trusts the detective, and that is that.

"But what if her hunch goes wrong?"

"It never happened." He smiles through his mouthful of bread.

You shake your head in amusement. "But if you breathe a word about my identity to the detective, you will be next on the hit list."

"Yes ma'am."

You wonder for a moment before asking. "Are you joining the academy?"

"Me? The academy? Oh no, no thank you." He shakes his head and grimace at the thought of joining the police force.

"Why? You were the one that told me about the academy."

"Because then I'll have someone to save my ass next time I get into trouble. But it doesn't matter anyway, does it? I have someone on the mafia to cover my ass."

"You're an asshole."

"Thus, explains the covering of my ass."

You scowl, but extends your hand out. He looks at your palm and scrunched his eyebrows. "What?"

"Give me your phone."

He digs his phone out from his pocket and slaps it onto your palm. You punch your phone number into the cell and dial, causing your own phone to ring. "If you're in some deep shit next time, call me. But if you call me to ask me to chill, I will endz you."

He laughs and retrieves his phone. "Thank you for the deal."

"Ditto."

* * *

You hear the door close behind you as you make you way towards the chair that is situated in front of the desk that Will Schuester is behind. He is looking at you. His expression hardened and there is coldness in his eyes as he watches you. You take a seat and smiled amiably for him, you left hand toying with the zippo on your lap.

"You went into Brown's territory without anybody, and without consent." He states. In the mafia world, nobody is allowed to avenge another member unless permission is granted. With your father dead, Will Schuester is the second in command, the underboss, making him the acting boss. He's trying to intimidate you, but you're not flinching. "You could've became a bargaining chip for Brown, or even worse, died there." His eyes wander to the stitch on your forehead and you see his jaws clench.

You're trying your best not to roll your eyes because you are safe, and realistically alive. But he's yapping about how you could've suffered unimaginable consequences.

"I am the acting boss for this family. You've just broken one of the rules."

This time, you react to his words. You smile and lean forward, your arms propping you up on the table. "I'm not in the family, thereby I don't have to abide by the rules." You let the words roll of your tongue slowly before easing yourself back into the chair.

He held your gaze. There is no annoyance, and it isn't contempt, but something in between, like he's trying to figure you out. "Stop acting so blasé about what happened, Santana." He caved and sighs, bringing his fingers up to pinch the bridge of his nose in exasperation. "I don't want a repeat of what happened to your father. The incident with your father is enough."

"I'm sorry, Uncle Will."

He stands up from his seat and rounded his table to where you are and pulls you up into a hug. You pat his back in an attempt to comfort him. Your father's death affected not only you, but several people who surrounded him when he was alive. Will Schuester stood by your father from the day he started and he's still around. You've spent quite a while with him when your father was too busy for you. His wife, Emma, bakes really nice pastries and she's a really approachable woman. She is like an acting mother to you and you appreciate the couple, even though you don't really voice it out.

"_De tal palo, tal astilla_." He chides. "Don't do stupid things again, okay?"

"Okay." You smile at his reference and give him a squeeze.

He pulls away and hold you at arm's length. "How are you holding up?"

"I'm fine." You're not over the grief, but you see no point in bawling your eyes out over him for days because crying doesn't solve anything. You're sad, but you don't really feel anything anymore. You feel kind of numbed.

"It's okay to cry, you know?" He's trying to be a caring adult but you don't really need it. You've cried in the arms of your best friend and sister. You think you're fine.

"I know." You assure him and gives him a smile.

His face finally crack into a slight smile and he releases his hold on you to walk back to his seat. "Since your father died and I'm the act-"

"About that," you interrupt him. You don't mean to be rude but you want to make your intention known, the intention of your visit. "I have something to ask from you."

"What is it?"

"I want to take over the Lopez Familia." You lay it on the table for him. Clear and simple. No beating around the bush, no side-tracking. You want to take over the family your father started up.

"Santana, I don't think you understand." He's trying to be patient with you. You know, and you understand. You're not as naïve as you seemed. "The businesses your father left behind is complicated."

"Triads, illegal arm trafficking, smuggling, I know."

His eyes narrow. He doesn't understands you.

"I'm not that blind, Uncle Will. I've partaken in some of those activities before, even though papi doesn't know."

"You-"

"Me, Quinn and Sebastian. We threatened those people who are involved to turn a blind eye."

He lets out a deep sigh again. There's a moment of silence in the room as he thinks. You should be trying to convince him but you didn't. You've said more than enough and if he's wise enough, he'd know what to do.

"Alright. I'll make you the official head." He looks up. "But everything you do have to run through me."

You let a small smile crack, "I have another favor."

"Shoot."

"Teach me the ropes and guide me through."

He smiles and relaxes into his chair. "My pleasure."

* * *

You step into the shop and your eyes scan the shop. Mannequins donning expensive tailored suits stands in random spots around the shop. Aunt Emma greets you with a hug which you reciprocate. She smells like home, the mixture of baked pastries and fauna. Her eyes widens when she pulls back, her line of sight on someone behind you. You turn to find Quinn smiling as she approaches, spreading her arms to trade hugs with the couple. She stops beside you and your lips curl into a smile because her presence puts you at ease.

Emma turns her attention back to you. "Does the stitches hurt?"

Your look up, as if you're able to see the stitches on your forehead. "A little." You admit.

She frowns and cradles your face with her hands. "Don't do silly things again, understand?"

You want to point out that it's not silly, that you're avenging your father but you remain silent. She's just saying what every adult would have said and she's just trying to show concern. So you respond with a slight nod.

The shop is empty, the only person present other than the four of you is a man donning a fitting suit. His hair neatly styled and eyes glasz, his skin snow-white and smooth. He appears to be taking care of himself better than you. He extends his hand to you, which you shakes for a brief moment before he repeat the same action with Quinn.

"Meet Kurt Hummel. He's the one in charge of our formal attires to make sure we're presentable to the other families and for formal events." Will introduces him to the both of you. "This is Santana and Quinn."

"Nice to meet you." His voice is a few octaves higher than normal males sounded but it carries a wave of confidence. His eyes glance to the wound on your forehead and you're starting to get frustrated with the attention the wound is receiving. But he says nothing and meets your eyes. "How may I be of service today?"

"We will need quite a few sets of formal wear for the two ladies." Will explains and you nod.

"I'll need to take your measurements before we move on to the different designs available." He pulls out a measuring tape from his shirt's inner breast pocket and swiftly wind it around your waist, hips and stomach, taking note of the measurements before moving to your shoulders, where he measures the length of your shoulder width. He didn't hesitate at all when he pulls the tape across your chest, measuring your chest length before slipping it up to measure your bust, breast point and waist point. His whole demeanor screams gay so you let his hands wonder. Even if he's straight as a stick, he's doing his job as a tailor. With the other measurements of your body and arm length, neck, wrist and bicep circumference, and the sleeve's hole measurement, which measures around your armpit, done, he proceeds to Quinn who is standing rigidly while he moves his hands across her body.

The designs of the few outfits on display is quite exquisite. You reach out and run your fingers over the fabric. "Don't worry, we use the best quality available." Kurt comments and you give a silent nod, eyes still on the trench coat. You've seen your papi worn a few of these military based clothing before and there was always this air of mystique around him. Quinn must have the same thoughts because she's now by your side and looking at the piece of clothing with a forlorn expression.

A pressure on your head causes you to turn. You catches a glimpse of Quinn and she's donning a fedora. You pat your head and realize that you have a similar hat on you. The fedora on Quinn is a contrast of her floral dress. The contrast causes you to giggle, followed by Quinn's own laughter. You're both looking weird with contrasting clothing. Will and Emma smiles, relieve that the melancholy expression on both of you have faded off.

"Thanks, Aunt Emma." Quinn removes the hat on her head. You smile to express you similar gratitude. She offers a tight-lipped smile in response.

Will is talking to Kurt and he's nodding at every few word the older man is saying. His eyes darts between you and Quinn, as if he's trying to visualize how some of his dresses and clothing will look like on both of you.

After a few minutes of discussion, Will returns. "We're done here."

Quinn raises an eyebrow at you, a silent question in those eyes of hers. You shrug in response, having no clue to where you are going next. His statement implies one thing – there's more to come.

* * *

Soft murmurs can be heard as policemen exchange words in the precinct. Ruffling of papers and the hitting of keys on their keyboards fills the silence.

"Detective Pierce."

Brittany whips her head around to find Captain Stephen motioning for her to follow. She nods and trails after the man. Her eyes settle on an Asian male seated on one of the chairs in front of the office desk.

"Meet Mike Chang, your partner for the case I'm going to assign you."

The Asian male smiles and offers his hand. "Nice to meet you."

Brittany takes his hand and give it a firm shake. "Ditto."

Brittany takes a seat beside him as her superior round the desk to his seat. He pulls out an envelope and slides it towards the two detectives. Brittany lifts the envelope and pulls out the document. Her eyes skates across the various profiles and she tries to retrieve any recollection of the people on the papers but her mind pulls a blank. She passes the stack if profiles to her new partner and looks to Captain Stephen for further details.

"The organized crime families are getting bolder in their crimes. Disemboweled bodies are found at the crime scenes. I need you to find out what's going on." He leans forward and his eyes skates between Brittany and Mike. "The Brown Family is suspected for these killings. Those profiles I've given you are on his families. Sue Sylvester have taken up the role of acting boss in the absence of Marcus Brown. I'll need the two of you to work together and shut down whatever they're plotting, and fast."

"Yes sir," The duo answers.

"Good, now go. I'll be waiting." The Captain waves them off and returns to the stack of paperwork on his desk.

Mike follows Brittany back to her desk and sits on the vacant chair that belongs to another officer that isn't around at the moment. He waits patiently as Brittany goes through the stack of profile, before passing it to Mike. "Do you know any of the people on the list?"

This time, he goes through the list more thoroughly and stops at one particular profile. "I've seen him before. He works at 'Chimes', a bar two streets down from here."

Brittany nods, her mind reeling to the day she caught Marcus Brown. It wasn't really all due to her though. It was the woman she saw that day. She was amazed at the amount of people she had dealt with before she reached Brown. And she was alone. She didn't seem like an amateur, considering how she remained the last one standing. Her guts told her to let that woman go, so she did. Maybe she should ask Joe if he had gotten any information out of the woman. "Let's go."

* * *

You remain silent as you enter the room. Eyes are on you and Quinn, before following after Will who stops at the lone chair. He scans the entire room, making sure the people are present before clearing his throat.

"As everyone have heard about the passing of Ricardo Lopez, I am assuming the role of acting boss." He stops and waits for any objections. When nobody voiced their unhappiness, he continues. "I appreciate everybody's presence at such an impromptu notification. But I have an announcement to make regarding the future of the Lopez family."

You fiddle with the zippo in your hand. The lighter have become something of comfort to you. Your thumb traces the engraved letters occasionally, and twirl it around in your hand, trying to redirect your anxiety into the metal casing. Quinn is seated beside you. You're thankful for her companion because she's kind of your source of comfort.

"I, as acting boss of the Lopez family, hand over the rights to lead the Lopez family to his daughter, Santana Lopez." He announces. Murmurs starts to erupt and gazes flicker to you and Quinn.

"I object!"

The whole room becomes silence at the voice of the sole objector. You stand up and walk over to Will who nods and steps aside. Now that you're in the center of attention, eyes on you, you feel a rush of adrenaline shooting through you.

"You have no rights to step into the family. You weren't even in the family."

"And who are you to speak?" You say in a low, dangerous voice, challenging him.

You catch the subtle movement of his adam's apple. His lips tremble as he struggles to get words out of his mouth. "I- I am Israel, Caporegime of the Lopez family."

"And you're not anymore."

"Wha-"

You ignore his stuttering and glance around the room. "Anyone else?"

"I'm talking, bitch!"

**Click!**

You hold your gun in his face. This time, the gun is loaded. You loaded a round into the gun before raising it at him. Your eyes catches the slight movement of the other members. "Those who are considering taking out your firearm, leave it." Their movements stopped. "If you continue talking, I will put a hole through your head."

He closes his mouth and sits down. You let the side of your lips curl into a smirk before lowering your firearm. You're about to let the whole matter go until you notice his hands fidgeting under the table. He stands up abruptly and you let your body react.

**BLAM!**

Your finger squeeze the trigger, the bullet putting a hole through his chest. His body froze and the gun in his arm goes slack before his body collapses.

"Nasty." You grimace at the sight. "I'm sorry about that, Mr. Flynn." You apologize for the splutter of blood that landed on the man whom you recognize as one of the few that you've threatened before, but he waves it off and shrugs off his suit.

You look to Quinn and there's turmoil in her eyes. You tighten your grip on the zippo that is in your right hand and tear your gaze away from Quinn. You had to make your point across that you're not a pushover, and certainly not a weak woman who is trying to take over the family. You have to do what you had done.

Two men enter the room and clear the body of the sole objector. A long lapse of silence passes before you speak up again. "I know that you guys think that women are inferior." You pause for effect. "But guess what? A man had a slower reaction than me. Maybe it's only him, but that sets us on a clean slate. We're all equal."

You catch the eye of the two women in the room. A blonde and a brunette. The brunette look significantly younger than the blonde. But both of their eyes held determination.

"The Brown family's number decreased significantly due to a shootout a few days ago. And Marcus Brown was taken in by a detective." You omit the part where you're involved. "The next in line, Sue Sylvester, is a conniving woman who we should stay cautious towards. We don't know what she's going to do but she sure as hell ain't going to sit and wait. The Lopez family may be affected by the passing of a certain figure but we're not going to let it get to us. We're one man down, they're a dozen men down. We have the upper hand and we're going to take advantage of that. Anyone who is not willing to sit on this ride with me, you have the choice to leave."

You watch, and wait. Wait for somebody to stand up and leave the room, wait for somebody to voice their objection against your words, but silence. All eyes are on you and you smile. Success.

"Gentlemen, and ladies, I thank you for your time." You look back at Will who is giving you a smile.

* * *

"Meet Holly Holiday, your father's consigliere."

The blonde that was in the room, but isn't Quinn, steps forward and looks down at you. You hold her gaze, not faltering beneath her scrutinizing gaze. It's like she's trying to read you, like how the others had eyed you. After a minute, she smiles and offers her hand. "Nice to finally meet you, lil Lopez."

Your face scrunched at that nickname, but you take her hand and give it a firm shake.

"Since your father is no longer around, she's going to be your consigliere." Will explains and you nod your head. "She'll be the one guiding you when I'm not around, and she's more familiar with the things your father was doing before he passed away."

She turns to Quinn and beams. "And you must be Quinn. I've heard much about you. About both of you, actually."

You narrow your eyes but she cuts you off. "You father was always talking about his two girls. He's a great man, but there's nothing but business between the two of us."

Quinn smiles. "It's okay to have emotions, Miss Holiday."

Quinn's words seem to surprise her because the cheeriness she showed is slipping away and similarly to the few people who were closely related to your papi, a fond sadness starts to etch itself across her face.

The mafia world have made everyone a shadow of their past. Their emotions get locked away in fear of it getting in their way of dealing with things that happen in this black world. The law enforcers are the light, and the mafia being the dark. There's a clear fine line between emotions and the mafia. People who shows emotions are people with weakness. So many choose to tuck away that part of them. You're not different. You need Quinn to be around you for assurance, a sense of familiarity and that you're not alone.

"You're right." Holly agrees and pulls you and Quinn into a hug. "I'm sorry I couldn't stop it from happening."

The enclosed room allows the people in it – You, Quinn, Holly and Will, to let your walls down for a moment.

"It's not your fault." Quinn whispers and you nod in agreement.

Holly sniffs, but she kept herself in check. She sighs and plaster on her cheeriness. "Alright, down to business." She turns to you and set a firm gaze. "Are you sure you're going to do it?"

"Yeah."

"Then I will do whatever I can to aid you." She states and you smile.

"Holly, I need you to show Santana around the few capos and the businesses. I have a few matters to settle and I won't be free for a few days." Will interrupts.

"Don't worry, Will. I will."

You're kind of glad she isn't using a tone that people use to pacify kids. She could have said that she will do anything in her favor to protect you but she didn't. She knows you're capable of handling yourself.

"Alright, call me if anything happens." He says and ruffles your hair and Quinn's before leaving the room.

Now there's only you, Quinn and Holly Holiday in the room. She takes your face between her hands and looks at the stitches on your forehead. "Were you the one that busted Marcus?"

You remain silent and advert your gaze. You're pretty certain you didn't mention that during the meeting. How the hell did she know about it?

"I have my sources. And they told me that a woman, a fairly young one, barged into the Brown's territory and went ape shit on the people inside. Said that it was a bloodbath." She explains. "I must say, I'm impressed. You're barely 23 and you managed to go all machine gun on those men who were supposed to be better."

You're not sure if it is a compliment, or a dig at you. You sigh and lower you head. "Yes, it's me." There's no point in denying it. People know it was you that killed a dozen of the soldiers of the Brown.

Two men enter the room and three pair of eyes turn to them. A blonde and a brunette. You're starting to wonder why the blondes and brunettes are always paired together. The brunette have the height of a towering giant and the blonde have lips that seem out of proportion to his face. Both of them are smartly dressed in suit and tie. Their eyes met Holly's and they nodded their acknowledgement.

"Meet Sam Evans and Finn Hudson." She motion to the blonde before motioning to the brunette. "They were previously with Ricardo. Now that you've taken the role, they're with you."

You lock gaze with them and search their eyes for any underlying reluctance at helping a woman out but their firm and confident gaze denies your suspicion. Since they're going to be by your side for most of the time, why not start off with the right footing? You offer a smile to the duo. Their stoic expression melt into a friendly smile in response.

"How is Ricardo dead and you two aren't?"

Your words wiped the smile off their faces because they look at each other with their lips apart, speechless. You're genuinely curious, but you're doubting their competency because your father is dead, and he had two bodyguards.

After a moment of silence, Sam sighs and turns back to you. "I apologize for our inability to prevent his death from happening. But Ricardo told us not to follow him for the night."

"And you let him go?" Quinn piped in.

"Yes."

You grind your teeth together and hold your tongue. They have been given orders not to follow him and you cannot blame them for your father's death, as much as you want to put that label on someone. They've done their job and it was your father that insisted them to stay away. Maybe he knew something was going to happen, that's why he chose to face it alone instead of dragging two other innocent men with him. Maybe he didn't want people to know what was going on between him and Brown or maybe, he thought he was capable of handling them alone.

Whatever happened, happened and whatever you do now will never change the past. You sigh and nod silently, accepting his answer. Quinn's lips are pursed into a thin line, about to snap at them but you place your hand on her shoulder. She tears her gaze away from the two men and turns to you, who pleaded with your eyes for her not to lash out on them. You see the fiery in her eyes soften and feel her shoulders slump.

"We're really sorry for letting Ricardo go."

Your father's passing is a really sore subject and you really didn't want to talk about it so you put on your stoic expression and divert the topic. "We're paying the Mottas a visit."

* * *

**"De tal palo, tal astilla" (Said by Will to Santana) - From such a stick, such a splinter. A reference to which Santana have the same traits of her father. Something along the line of like father like daughter but there's no gender specification. Caporegime are something like branches of the main family and consigliere is the advisor. Since Santana found the zippo in her father's room, she have been holding it since as a source of support. Something like a pen which people would hold during a presentation to calm their nerves. But for Santana it's more of like a reminder of her father and the comfort it gave to hold something of significance.**


	4. Chapter Three: I Am The Boss

**A/N: I used google for some of the details in this chapter. I don't live in NY so I don't really know which street is which and how it looks like so let's just use our imagination. And, I'm looking for a beta. The beta that I've found seems to be quite busy with school so I don't really want to impose. If there's any beta you guys know of that is currently free to beta, please do tell me. Reviews are greatly appreciated. **

**To the Guest that pointed out my mistakes: Thanks for highlighting that part to me. I've made changes to the previous chapter so Santana is 22 in this fic. And I changed it because partly of what you've said - Brittany would be in her mid twenties to be a detective, and I don't want the age gap between them to be too big.**

**Thanks to luceroadorada & Blueskkies for the reviews :)**

* * *

**Chapter Three: I Am The Boss.**

"Give me whatever you have on the Motta Family."

"They have a family strength of thirty known men but a larger number of soldiers. Al Motta have a daughter, Sugar Motta. His wife divorced him about three years ago and since then, he started bringing different women home. He used money to keep Sugar off him. His assets accumulates to roughly 3.8 million." Holly reads off from the screen of her iPad. "Ricardo planned to have an alliance with him. His plan was to offer Al Motta the aid of several caporegime of the Lopez should he be caught in a situation in which he requires help."

You nod and contemplates on your idea. "What's our stand against the Motta?"

"Our total assets, without the caporegime, totals to 16.9 million. Total land area we're in control of is five times the Motta's." Holly pulls out another note and did a quick comparison.

A smirk grazes your features and you pull out your firearm. Holly watches you as you check your pistol's magazine. You click the magazine tube back into place and slide it into the paddle holster that is on your hip, concealed by your outer wear. Whatever you have in your mind may backfire, so a firearm by your side may save your life, or lives, considering that you're bringing Quinn with you.

"I'll need you to stay out with Finn and Sam when I go in with Quinn to negotiate the alliance." Holly have a look of concern on her face but she agrees with your request. You give a small smile at the compliance.

The sedan slows to a stop and from the rear mirror, you see the car in which Blaine and Sam are in halt to a stop behind the vehicle you're in. You step out of the car and the rest follow. Several pairs of eyes watch as you make your way through the bass thumping club.

You watch the ladies on the dance floor swivel their hips along to the music and men grinding into their dancing partners, their hands wandering lower as the alcohol pushes them forth with an urge of courage, while you make your way to the VIP area where Al Motta is in. Blaine and Sam follow close behind Holly who is behind you while Quinn walks by your side. Eye contact is avoided as you ignore the presence of the few Motta's henchmen. They're watching your every move. One wrong move and a gun fight can break out in the middle of the busy club.

The man who is standing guard by the door which holds Al Motta and his group of women stops you from entering. He squints his eyes at you as an indication for you to identify yourself.

"Regards from Ricardo Lopez."

He contemplates for a second before stepping out of your way. You catches him tilting his towards some of the men that are watching your group pass. You turn back to Holly and gives a nod before proceeding into the room with Quinn. Sam and Finn square their shoulders as they stand on guard outside the door. Their eyes lock with the Motta's guard and they maintain their stoic expression, daring the other to make a move.

The door closes behind you and you take a moment to look around the posh VIP room that caters specially to Al Motta. The room is dimmed, lighted by several neon lights under the stages and several small chandeliers. Small stages with exotic dancers fill most of the space and at the end, you spot Al Motta sitting on a couch with two arm candies by his side, snuggling into him. The few dancers continue dancing, unfazed by the foreign appearance of other people except Al Motta in the room. You meet Quinn's eyes and she gives you an affirmation.

Al Motta's eyes leaves his girls and turns to you, his lips curling into a smirk. The smirk on his face reminds you of Puck, the one that thinks that they can have any woman with a flick of their finger. He looks at you as if you're fresh meat, an easy prey. Alike to most high-profile bosses, they have the luxury of having women that are at their beck and call. You take a seat on the sofa beside the one he's seated on and you feel the seat beside you dip.

"So what do we have here?" Al Motta removes his hands around his two girls and leans forward, taking a cigar out of a box that rests on the glass table.

He's giving you your attention, which is a good sign. You look at him with a straight face and start talking. "Ricardo Lopez wa-"

"Ah..." He interrupts and as he positions his cigar cutter on the head of the cigar and clips it. "He's a fine fella. A pity he's gone."

You plaster on a slight smile and continues, "He had thoughts on an alliance between The Lopez and Motta."

He turns to both girls with his unlit cigar to ask them to light it up but neither have any lighter on them. So you click open the zippo in your hand and lean forward as the flame flicker to life. He smirks as he brings his face forward, the cigar sitting between his lips, and allow his cigar to catch fire. Taking a deep drag, he exhales a stream of bluish smoke towards you and Quinn before retreating into his sofa.

Long used to the smell of expensive cigar, you pull back with a plastered on smile. You watch him take another drag as he eyes you. "Why are you here, doll?"

"To negotiate an alliance."

"Why did William send you instead of coming here himself? Are the two of you part of the deal?" He raises an eyebrow suggestively as he takes another drag. News of your father's passing spread like wild-fire. People assumed that Will Schuester had taken on the role of boss since your father's death. He thinks you're one of the few girls that are in the Lopez family that aren't of any value, but as negotiation deals.

If glares could kill, you're pretty sure you and Quinn would've been dead already, from the glares the two arm candies are giving. You chuckles softly, amused by the man's mind. He may be the leader of one of the known families, but his brain is in the gutters. But that's okay. Better than okay. It means he'll be easier to deal with, should anything arise. You lean forward slightly and lock gaze with him. "Unfortunately, I don't play for your team."

It took him a few seconds before he catches on to what you've said. He roars back in laughter and points at you with his cigar. "You've got guts."

His eyes flicker to Quinn, so you put your hand on her thigh and give it a slight squeeze. His eyes cast a downward glance. What you want to plant in his mind seems to succeed because he settles back into his seat with his arms snaking around the arm candies' waists. "What is in for me, should I agree to the alliance?"

"You won't have to live on edge, and your business won't go bankrupt." Your voice holding no emotion and threat, but the flat tone is an indication of all seriousness.

His eyes narrow and you watch his nostril flare slightly. You're taunting his weaker family and he's not as witless as you think he is. "Do you know whose territory are you under?"

"Yours." Quinn answers. You look to her with an arched eyebrow, surprised that she actually knows what is going on in your head. Her eyes flickers to yours for a second and you catches onto her play. "But it will be the Lopez's if you say no."

He remains silent for a minute before he starts laughing again. Quinn maintains her stoic expression and you let a smile graze your features. He looks between you and Quinn, and motions between the both of you with the cigar between his fingers. "The two of you have lady balls. Bitchy, but I like it. Very well, we have a deal." He smiles for the first time, a smile without the smugness he previously held.

You raise and extends your hand for him, closing the pact between the two families. "Pleasure working with you." His handshake is firm and he remains seated while you and Quinn make your way towards the door.

"Yo soy la jefa, no lo." You chance a glance over your shoulders and shoots him a wink before stepping out of the room and closing the door after you.

Holly is quick to join you by your side when you step out. One reason why you want Holly to sit out of the negotiation is because, except Quinn and Sebastian, nobody else knew about your sexuality. And you plan on keeping it that way so it won't hinder your plans. "Do we have to prepare anything for him?"

"There's no need to prepare anything for him. He's the one that is going to prepare things_, for us_." You smirks and Holly looks at you with an amused expression.

Sam and Finn walk ahead and went into their personal sedan while you enter the backseat with Quinn in the one chauffeured by Figgins, with Holly at the passenger seat.

You unclip the holster and remove it from your hip. The bulge is being a constant irritant when you sit down so you set the gun down beside you. "How did you know I was going to do that?"

Quinn arches an eyebrow and you see the playful smile of hers emerging. "You're not the only daughter of Ricardo Lopez, Santanita." She teases you and you responds with a scowl.

"Have you partaken in any activities related to smuggling goods via ships?" Both you and Quinn direct your attention to her. "We have new stocks coming in tonight. If you girls are interested I can give you a glimpse of it. We don't have to do anything though. Just watch. It's at Lekington Avenue, 3AM."

"What are they bringing in today?" Holly scrolls through her document on her iPad and stops at a highlighted sentence.

"Arms. A few rifles, pistols, flamethrowers. As usual."

"We have flamethrowers?" Your interest is piqued, for sure. Quinn jabs your side and you flinch.

"We have them but they're not for our own use. Most of them go to the people who actually buys them. We're just supplying them with what they need."

"Why the hell would someone need a flamethrower for?"

Holly shrugs.

You take a look on your leather watch and realize that it is only 4PM, far too early for the smuggling to take place. "We have time. We can go home and take a short rest before we head over to Lekington."

* * *

"NYPD, we're looking for Jeremy Patricks." Brittany and Mike flash their IDs to the man behind the bar. He's wearing a vest over a white button up, probably their uniform.

"Did that fella do something? I swear I'm not involv-"

"Relax, sir. We're here to ask him some questions." Mike clarifies and Brittany nods in agreement.

"He's over there." The man points one of the man serving drinks to the few patrons in the bar. He dons a neat buzz cut and dresses in a similar style.

The two detectives make their way over to the man and the smile on his face drops when they flash their IDs. "Mister Patricks, we're hoping that you aid us in our investigation."

His eyes skates between Brittany and Mike. Brittany notices a tattoo of a Chinese letter at the side of his neck, a little to the back. "Yeah, sure. About?"

There's slight hesitation in his voice and he seems really fidgety. "We're doing an investigation on the Mafia Family of Marcus Brown. Are you familiar with that family?"

Jeremy swallows and nods. "Yeah."

"Do you have any idea about the killings that happened three days ago, at East Harlem?" Brittany watches as Mike asks him a few questions.

"I…" His eyes ducks around and he shoves Mike towards Brittany before taking off, running towards the back exit of the pub.

Brittany launches into action as she takes off after Jeremy. He runs down the alley, glancing a look over his shoulder before turning to the main street.

"Jeremy Patricks!" Brittany yells as she give chase. The man refuses to acknowledge her and continue running, dodging and occasionally pushing several passersby. He runs across the street, causing a car to screech to a halt from the sudden movement. The driver honks and curses at the running figure.

Mike dodges into one of the alleys while Brittany continue keeping chasing. Jeremy topples over a trash can to slow Brittany down but the agile detective jumps across the pile of rubbish and continues running after the running bartender.

He stops running and turns but Brittany catches up, preventing him from escaping. His head flickers between Brittany and Mike. Taking the temporary distraction, Mike rushes up and tackles him, pinning him to the floor. "You're under arrest, Jeremy Patricks!"

"I haven't do anything! You guys can't arrest me!" He yells as he struggles to break free from Mike's hold.

"Shoving a police officer, attempting to disrupt traffic, disorderly public conduct of toppling a public trash can and purposely delaying a police investigation. Those aren't nothing." Brittany takes out her handcuff and swings it around her finger.

"I'll tell you guys what you want to know, damn it! Just don't bring me in!" He pleads and a smile spreads across Brittany's face. Mike hauls him to his feet, keeping a good grip on his arms and presses him against the wall.

"Why did you run away from us?"

"I haven't a clean record. Of course I'd run when I see you dirty cops!" He spits and Mike elbows him on the head. "Fuck!"

"What do you know about the killings?"

"I know nothing, man! I haven't been in contact with those people for a while now and all I know is tonight's delivery!"

"Delivery?"

"They're bringing in goods, illegal firearms!"

"Who?"

"The Lopez Familia!"

Brittany frowns. The Lopez Familia have been on the scaling to the top of the police hit list since twenty years ago. They're ranked two, one level below the Brown Family. The department knows that the Lopez have been rising steadily throughout the years but there's no proof that they did whatever they did. Whoever is leading the Lopez cleans up after himself really cleanly. The people who slip up are the soldiers and the useless runners who had sworn on their family not to snitch on the Lopez. The department had never, not even once, successfully drain any information out of them. "What time and where will the exchange take place?"

"Along Lekington Avenue at 3AM! That's all I know! Can I go?!"

Mike shoves him towards the wall and Jeremy grunts when his nose scrapes against the rough brick wall. "We're watching you."

* * *

"Code 1, 10-10 along Lekington Avenue. Suspected illegal trafficking along the Harlem River. Unit number 78 on standby." Brittany radios in their situation. Mike, high on alert, have his eyes trained on the empty street for any suspicious movements.

Soft statics crackle through the radio followed by an acknowledgement.

"I'm going to walk around and see if there's any discrepancy. Stay in the vehicle and watch for any movement."

"Stay safe."

Brittany nods and exits the vehicle. She feel for the firearm tuck in her holster before walking away from the cruiser.

* * *

You look out of the sedan in boredom and spots a police cruiser down the street and you watch as a blonde steps out of the vehicle.

"Shit..." Figgins's eyes flicker to yours for a moment through the rear mirror, Quinn and Holly look at you with puzzled expressions. "Holly, call whoever is in charge of tonight's goods to turn back and reschedule a drop off time." She looks at you as if you're crazy. "Now!"

Holly watches you as she rattles instructions into the cellphone. You give her a look saying that you'll explain later and she nods.

"Figgins, give me your tie." You commands as you shrug off your outerwear. His eyes widen but makes no attempt to move, so you grab his shoulders and pull the tie off his neck. "I'll meet you guys back at home. Ask both Finn and Sam not to follow me."

"Where are you going?" Quinn asks as you fling the tie around your neck.

"I'll explain later." You step out of the sedan and brisk walk away from the vehicle towards the detective. Your hands work on the tie as you make your way towards her.

The stall police cruiser catches your eye and you look into the vehicle, making brief eye contact with the Asian male sitting inside. He holds your gaze as you walks past.

"Look who's here." You say in a mocking tone as you approaches the detective.

She turns around and narrow her eyes at you. "Tomb raider."

"What?" You scrunch your face is confusion. Did she just called you tomb raider?

"You. The girl who wiped out the Brown family's henchmen. Well, those that were around anyway." She explains and you stop before her. Her eyes flickers to your attire and stop at your tie before moving back up to your eyes.

"My friend is having a costume themed party a few blocks down." You lie, feeling the need to justify your appearance and presence. The first thing that came to mind when you were in the sedan was to make yourself look as casual as possible. And that, you came up with the idea of dressing as a boarding school student, leading you to borrow the tie from Figgins.

She eyes you for another moment before you catches her hands moving. You try to step away from her but her hands reach for your tie and she tugs on your tie, pulling you closer to her. You gulp at the close proximity and you swear you saw the corner of her lips twitch. You watch as she pulls the knot free, her tongue sticking out a little at the corner of her mouth and her brows furrow in concentration, before weaving the tie through a newly looped hole and tightening it to make it look neater than how it previously was - a loose untidy knot that you manages to tie as you approaches her. She pulls the length of the tie and push the knot up to the space between your collarbones before pulling on the flaps of your collar and flattening it against your shoulders.

"Thanks." Your voice is low and you're thankful for the dimness of the surrounding because you feel blood rushing to your face. You were never a fan of physical contact, and you still aren't. You're just trying to stall enough time for the rest to leave the area so you let her do whatever she did.

"You're welcome." She takes a step back and admires her own handiwork, a small smile grazing her lips as her eyes skates between your eyes and your tie.

"Why did you let me go?" You attempts to direct her attention away from your tie by asking her a question that have been on your mind since the day you left the Brown's.

She shrugs and looks away, tucking her hands into the pockets of her jeans with her thumb sticking out. "You kind of did me a favor by cornering Marcus. So let's just say we're helping a buddy out."

You nod. Maybe she's just really peculiar, like Joe said.

"And if I did bring you back, I have to get you patched up, do extra paperwork, and have a dozen of people coming after me. No thanks." She sticks her tongue out and shakes her head in disapproval.

You let out an amused snort at her explanation. Maybe she isn't that peculiar as Joe described her to be. She have perfectly good reasons behind her actions. She turns back to you with an entertained look and you search her eyes for any malice and you find none. "So, Detective Pierce, why are you here at this ungodly hour?"

She seems surprised that you know her name. "That's something for me to know, and for you to find out."

"The only thing I found out was your name."

"Should I be worried that you'll be coming after me to end my life?"

"Ah ha, very funny. But it is a possibility."

"Maybe I should make a decision and take you to the station right now. I wouldn't mind more paper work if it meant that I'll live." She carries a playful intonation and you can see the tiny twinkle of mischief in her eyes.

"Then your name, Brittany Pierce, will be on the top of the hit list." You play along.

"So you really know my name. I'm impressed." There. The subtle curl to the corner of her lips that makes you feel jittery and sends a tingle down your body.

"Rosario!"

The both of you turn to see Quinn walking towards you. Your eyes widen in horror.

"So, I know your name now." You feel her breath on your neck and you tighten your fist that is curled around your thumb, trying not to visibly flinch. Your jaw clenches as you watches Quinn approach the two of you.

"Hi, I'm Lucy Q." Quinn introduces herself and you catches onto her play easily. She calls you Rosario, your fake ID's name, and she introduces herself as Lucy.

"Brittany S. Pierce." You raise your eyebrow. Now you know her middle name starts with S. "S Pierce, not Spears." She reiterates.

"So, Rosario, I was wondering where you ran off to." Quinn glares at you and you keep your face neutral.

"I came out for a breather. The party is kind of suffocating."

"As much as I would like to watch the banter, I have to go. Nice meeting you, Lucy." Brittany says before taking off in the other direction in which Quinn came from.

"What's going on?" Quinn asks the moment Brittany is out of earshot.

"I was stalling time. That woman is a detective. Either someone rattled on us or she's in the vicinity due to pure luck." You glance over your shoulder and look down the now empty street.

"And how did you know that she's a detective?"

"Let's just say, this isn't the first time we've met." You keep the details to yourself because you know Quinn will flip if you tell her about what happened down at the Brown's. "Nice call, Lucy."

"Not bad saving your own family from problems, Rosario."

You roll your eyes and nudge Quinn playfully before your expression turns serious. "Somebody ratted on us." You pull out your phone and dials Holly.

"Hey, chica." Her tone lighthearted and cheery, chimes through your phone.

A soft chuckle escapes your mouth and Quinn raises an eyebrow in question. You mouth 'Holly' to her before speaking. "Somebody snitched on us. There's detectives at our location earlier."

"So that's why you left." She sounds as though she have been enlightened.

"I had to play decoy. But hey, who knew about the shipment today?"

"The mafia world doesn't have a tight-lipped mouth. There could be hundreds of others who knew about today's shipment."

"Wh-"

"But I think I might have a clue. I'll look it up for you if you want."

"Please, thank you."

"My pleasure. Oh, and, do you girls need a ride home?"

You look to Quinn and you smile. "Nah, we're gonna grab some food."

She clicks her tongue in response, accompanied by an eye roll. You laugh and link your arm with hers as the two of you make your way to the less deserted streets.

* * *

"Did you find anything?" Mike asks the moment Brittany opens the door to the passenger seat. The blonde detective shakes her head and settles into the seat.

"You?"

"Nothing. No incoming ships at all. And it's nearly 4am now."

Brittany sighs. "Let's end the day. Apparently Jeremy gave us false information. We wasted our night camped out here for nothing." She pauses for a second. "Do you think they delayed shipment because they knew we're here?"

"Unless Jeremy is stupid enough to go up to the Lopez and tell them he told cops about their shipments, I doubt so. Nobody in the department knew until we radioed in." Mike pulls the car out of stationary and drives along the streets.

"True…" Brittany nods along as she trains her eyes on the bay.

"Do you maybe, want to grab some supper?"

Brittany's nose scrunches up. "I'm famished."

* * *

"I'M COMING, STOP BANGING THE FUCKING DOO-"

His jaw drops and his eyes widen, darting between you, Holly and the two well built men behind you. He takes a few second before he snaps out of shock and tries to slam the door shut but Finn is quick to jam his feet between the door and the wall, preventing it from being shut. Jeremy stumbles back when Finn pushes through the door.

You take in his looks – a pair of striped boxers. It's 2PM and he look like he just got out of bed. As Finn opens the door, you invite yourself into the apartment and you cringe internally at how untidy the apartment is. Beer bottles lie haphazardly on the floor, clothes hanging on corners of furniture and pizza boxes left open and exposed to the air. The apartment reeks of perspiration and moldy cheese.

"W-what are you doing here?"

"Doing a house visit." You reply and turns to face him. He's fidgeting and from the look in his eyes, he's terrified. He looks like he had seen a ghost. His face aghast and lower lips trembling as he tries to open his mouth to speak. That is what guilt does to people. It makes them scared, terrified of the consequences behind their actions. "How are you doing, Jeremy Patricks?"

"I'm f-fine." He's stammering.

You really don't like people snitching and this very guy in front of you did it. He's with the Browns and the moment something happens to him, they'll most probably be coming after you, _if_ they finds out who. He gave the information of the shipment timing to the detective you've chatted with the previous night and Holly manages to find that out.

"Who told you about our shipment?"

"Nobody."

Sam and Finn both grab his arms and forces him onto a chair that Sam had stationed in the middle of the room. He struggles, but his scrawny figure can't overpower two trained bodyguards. "FUCK OFF!"

Finn elbows him in the head, causing him to be silent for a moment. That short moment is enough for Sam to pull a coarse rope out of his backpack and secure the man in his seat.

Of course, you can't leave any evidence behind. Both the bodyguards have gloves over their hands and you're careful not to come into contact with any of the item in the apartment. You free your hair from the fedora resting on your head and you look at Jeremy again. "Who tipped you off?"

"Nobody." He repeats his previous answer.

Sam grabs his head and tilts it up forcefully. You raise your leg and slams it onto the chair, between his legs and you lean forward. "Really?"

His eyes darts down to where your leg is and it moves up to your thigh. You snap your fingers. "Eyes up here, boy."

"Brody! I heard it from Brody!"

"And who gave you the rights to rat on us?"

"I had to give them something to ensure my own fucking safety!"

"And your best bet is to mess with the Lopez?"

"It was the first thing that came to mind! I had no intention of crossing you!"

"But you did." You drawl as you fit your fedora back on your head. "Thanks for the information, kiddo. You've been a fun to talk to."

You step away from Jeremy and walks out of the apartment, the others following suit. You stay out while Finn and Sam reenter the apartment with bottles of gasoline. They pour the content along the walls and floor or the apartment, not missing dunking the tattletale in the flammable liquid before stepping out of the apartment.

"YOU CAN'T DO THIS TO ME! PLEASE!" His cries goes unanswered.

Closing the door after them, the duo pour the remains of the content along the door before stepping back.

"Do you guys smoke?" You turn to your two bodyguards and they nod in response. You pull out a packet of cigarettes and light two up before passing it to them.

"PLEASE, I BEG YOU!" His cries can be heard from the other side of the door, that's how loudly he's shouting. "I'M SORRY! I WON'T DO IT AGAIN! I SWEAR! JUST SPARE ME!"

Smoke drifts through the air and you gazes out at the street below, watching cars flash pass and people rushing from one destination to another. You feel nothing. You don't feel your conscience eating away at you for taking the life of another man. He deserves it. And you're using him to send a message to the rest – the people who are underestimating you, and the people who doesn't know of you yet. He's going to be the message you want them to receive. You are no pushover and you don't blink twice before deciding to end somebody. Nobody snitches on the Lopez and live to tell the tale. Absolutely nobody. And you make sure of that.

When you're pretty sure their cigarettes are reaching the butt, you start walking away from the apartment with Holly by your side. Sam and Finn are quick to follow.

With a flick of their fingers, the lighted cigarette lands on the puddle of liquid and sets it alight. You hear the fire spread itself along the wet surface. A blaze trails along the walls of the apartment and seeps through the crack at the bottom of the door, into the apartment.

"FUCK! NO!"

The purifying flame engulf the apartment within seconds, consuming the entire apartment in a furious, cleansing rage. Jeremy shrieks as the flame touches his wet skin, melding into him as one as he gets swallowed by the inferno. His flesh curls much like a paper set on fire and the screaming soon dies into silence. All there's left is the sound of fire eating away at his apartment.

The temperature is raising by the second and your lungs welcome the fresh air when you step out of the building.

* * *

"Yo soy la jefa, no lo." (I am the boss, not him.) I used google so please pardon me if I'm wrong on this.  
The radio codes - "Code 1, 10-10" (Code 1 - Handle call at your own convenience. 10-10 - Possible Crime)


	5. Chapter Four: The Truth

**Hi. I'm sorry for the lack of update. But here's the long overdue chapter! Special thanks to beta gleeeeeeeek89 for helping me with my grammar!  
To Guest: Sorry about that. I wanted to start with Santana first before I share the POV between the both of them. But if you're still around, hi~**

**And to the guest that wanted more Brittana flirting, you'll need to read on :)**

**luceroadorada - Thank you :)**

**naynay1963 - Ahaha with Brittana against each other?**

**And to the other guests - Thank you for the reviews!**

**Disclaimer: I Do Not Own Glee**

**And on another note: The tribute episode really got me.. so.. hopefully everyone is feeling alright. Cheers.**

* * *

**Chapter 4: The Truth**

** You are now Brittany S. Pierce**

"Jesus, you could have been gentler." Santana groaned and rubbed at the raw flesh on her forehead. It felt weird that the stitches were gone, having been used to them on her forehead. But it was something that she wouldn't complain about. She didn't have to hide her forehead to conceal the wound anymore, and she didn't have to worry about it tearing apart again.

Two weeks passed and she was back at Joe's apartment getting her stitches removed. He raised an eyebrow and set the tweezers down on the table before he turned to look at the Latina.

"What?" She scowled at his expression.

"You're awfully whiny for someone who survived a gunfight." He lifted her bangs up and inspected her healed wound. "At least it's a pretty battle scar."

"Do you like living here?" She asked out of curiosity and he let her bangs drop back into place.

He considered her question for a moment before he answered. "I don't. But if I moved, not only will it affect me, it'll affect a few of my friends." He explained as he washed and sterilized his equipment. "And people like you would've died from loss of blood."

"What if I offer you a place in the Lopez?"

"And put my life into a pact and die with Lopez embedded into my name?" He chuckled and shook his head. "I'm not into all that, Santana. I don't do blood, glory and honor."

Santana's phone vibrated and she swiped her finger across the screen. "Watch it, doctor. I might just send a horde of injured soldiers into your apartment."

"Then I'll have to start charging you for every soldier I patch up."

"I have to go. I'll see you around."

"Take care, young lady!"

**[Flashback]**

"So… what's it like to successfully complete your first assignment?" You asked the senior Detective beside you.

She looked away from the road and turned to face you, she donned a uniform, seated in the passenger seat. Every fresh graduate had been assigned a senior officer, some even being paired with a detective. You were one of those who managed to get a detective as their mentor. The detective smiled, her eyes carried the pride she had for the accomplishment. "It's indescribable. There's this exhilaration coursing through you for a short period of time, the short span of celebratory achievement. The buzz just seems to motivate you to do even better, so that the buzz will last for a longer period of time." She turned back to the road and drove the cruiser at a steady pace along the streets of New York as their patrol duty. "But every buzz dies off after a while so it becomes a thing that you do for the sake of doing it, but still love every single moment of it."

You listened and nodded before you drifted off into thoughts of your own. You managed to pass the gruesome trainings and studies of the academy. But to be honest, you didn't have much of a goal. Maybe now you could aim to be like your mentor, known as one of New York's best detectives. Your goal wasn't the glitz, the glamor. It was the recognition that followed. If you did manage to successfully accomplish one of the tougher missions, people would recognize you as Brittany S. Pierce, not the fresh graduate from the academy.

"You still have a long way to go, so don't fret over it." Your mentor's words snapped you out of her thoughts. You gave a slight smile before you averted your gaze onto the streets.

Your wandering eyes caught sight of a group of people congregating at the empty lot of the street. You nudged your mentor and she nodded, as she slowed the car to a halt. Your hands felt around your duty belt, making sure your gears were all in place before you step out of the vehicle, towards the crowd.

Grunts were heard and profanities spilt from the mouths of the few men.

"Fuckin' cop!" One of the bald, burly men shouted as he swung his left leg into the body of the victim that was lying on the floor, groaning in pain.

"NYPD! STOP WHATEVER YOU'RE DOING NOW AND PUT YOUR HANDS UP!" You yelled as you approached the group, your pistol raised. Your mentor was close behind and similarly, her pistol was held at face level as you took slow steps towards the bunch of men.

Their eyes widened in horror and they throw the baseball bats on their hands towards the two of you before taking off in the opposite direction. "STOP!"

You gave chase but you stopped when the man who was brutally attacked by the group of thugs caught your attention. You looked down and your face paled. Your blood ran cold as you stared at the man on the ground. You felt the blood drain from your face as realization struck you. His face was battered and blood oozed from several areas of his face. Torn black lips, swelled eyes, bruised cheekbones and that wasn't the end of it. A knife was stuck into his torso and a pool of blood had already gathered underneath his body.

Your mentor gave up the chase after a few seconds and returned to where the man was, thinking that his life was of priority as compared to the few thugs. She crouched down beside the man and she gasped. "Detective Brett." She looked up at you, "DON'T JUST STAND THERE, RADIO FOR HELP!"

You were snapped out of your shock and your body went into autopilot. You sprinted back to the police cruiser and shouted into the radio. "CODE 3, CODE 3! WE HAVE AN OFFICER DOWN AT 115 EAST 98TH STREET! PROFUSE BLEEDING AND POSSIBLE CONCUSSION!" Your hands were shaking and your head was spinning. Of all people, why him?

**[End of flashback]**

**BLAM BLAM BLAM!**

You fired three shots off your practice pistol and sighed. The three holes on the paper target were off range and it barely grazed the target's arms. You close her eyes and willed the images of your deceased brother to recede back into the corners of your mind. These few days haven't been smooth sailing for you and images of your brother drenched in his own pool of blood resurfaced every now and then. You cringed when your mind replayed how your brother cringed at every slight movement and how he rasped out his final words.

_"Be a better cop than I was, and do our parents proud."_

Of course he didn't say it with a single breath, all smooth and convincing. He said it with ragged breaths and sharp inhales, choking out every single word as if they were hints to a certain treasure spot marked 'x'.

Following the events of your brother's death, the Captain of the precinct, at that time, made the decision to send you to counselling.

To say it helped was a false statement. You had been cleared to resume your duties after a month of sessions with the wrinkled lady sitting on an armchair, determined to help you with dealing with your brother's death, but those images still haunted you on random occasions.

A hand reached for your shoulder. Sensing somebody behind you, you whipped around and almost slammed the butt of the pistol into the sudden intruder's head.

"Whoa, easy there." Mike stepped away from you.

"I'm sorry." You sighed and lowered your hand, letting it go slack by your body. Mike accepted the apology with a nod and he took a stand beside you at the next booth. He clipped the magazine into the gun before he put on the electronic earmuffs and safety goggles that the shooting range provided. He wiggled his eyebrow as a challenge, his lips curled up into a smirk as he raised his gun to eye level.

You took up the challenge and stepped back to your booth, focused on the newly replaced paper target.

Shots rang through the small room and when your guns emptied, you lowered it to examine yours and Mike's accuracy. A smile spread across your face when the new shots fired by you seemed to be on par with Mike's.

"Not bad, Pierce." He teased as he removed his earmuffs and set it on the small area for you to put your items.

"Not bad yourself, Chang." You replied as you removed your gears and did a double-check on your own firearm to make sure that it was empty before putting it down.

"Want to talk about what was bothering you before you were graced by my presence?" Mike offered and you responded with a shake of your head.

"Thank you, I appreciate that." You offered a genuine smile at your assigned partner.

"That's what partners do, right?"

"Right, and I couldn't have asked for a better partner."

"You got that right." Mike puffed out his chest and you gave him a light punch, which caused him to flinch in mock pain.

You shook your head and walked away, leaving Mike alone in the firing range. "I'll catch you later, partner."

* * *

**R-o-s-a-r-i-o**

**ENTER**

You waited as your search scanned millions of people. Words flew across the screen and you mused at how quick the system was. The database pulled out several similar names and ended with seven Rosario-related profiles. You clicked on the first one and it took less than ten seconds for you to get to the next profile. The picture provided in the profile didn't match. It certainly didn't look like the Latina. The second, third and fourth profiles were of the same results.

You were about to click on the fifth profile when there was a knock on your desk in front of you. You whirl around to find Officer James standing behind you. "Sorry, am I interrupting something?"

You smiled and lowered the laptop's screen so that whatever was on the screen couldn't be seen by the officer. Your search on the woman wasn't related to the case you were currently on and she was not involved in any of the other cases that the other officers are working on. So whatever you were finding was considered personal. "No, I'm fine. Can I help you?"

"Captain asked for you and Mike." He threw his thumb over his shoulder to where the Captain's office was. You nodded and thanked him before you returned your attention to your laptop. You sighed and closed the application. There were three more profiles you would have to look at later. But for now, duty called.

You rapped her knuckles against the closed door before you turned the knob and entered Captain Stephen's office. Mike was already seated before the captain and you took a seat beside him. He smiled as a greeting but it lasted only for a moment because being called into the captain's office means serious business.

"At 2:30PM earlier today, one of the Brown's man died in his own apartment. It was reported that his apartment caught fire and he died in the fire." Stephen explains and both of you nod in response. "The forensics are there. I want both of you to head down to the scene and try to sort all of these out."

"Yes sir." You and Mike stood and saluted before leaving the office. You have a hunch on whom, or which family, did it, if it was a planned murder. But nothing has been confirmed yet. You will just have to make a trip down to get more information from the forensics.

"Do you think the Lopez are behind this?" You asked Mike as you drove along the streets of New York, curious on what Mike's outlooks were.

"It's a possibility." He replied with a shrug, his eyes never left the road before him as he drove.

The drive was short and as you stepped out of the vehicle, you were greeted by an all-too-familiar sight. Officers surrounded the cordoned off area trying to keep reporters and nosey bystanders out while forensics draped in white lab coats were bent over several different area of the scene. You caught the faint whiff of gasoline and smoke as you near the charred apartment. Officers talk in low-hushed tones and they nod in acknowledgement as you and Mike approach.

"Rachel." You greeted your forensic as you approached. Rachel has been with the force for three years now. She replaced her father, Hiram Berry, who retired and handed the responsibility to his daughter.

The brunette looked up and offered a smile before returning her attention to a heap of charred remains - most likely Jeremy's. You and your partner lower yourselves to squat beside Rachel. "Is this Jeremy?"

"I can't confirm with you right now. I'll have to run some tests back at the lab. However, there's a high possibility that it is Jeremy Patricks, the owner of this apartment. There's no sign of struggles anywhere but it appears that whoever this is, was tied to a chair." Rachel picked up a piece of half burnt coarse rope before letting it drop back onto the floor. She glanced around the apartment. "The entire house is in a mess. There's a pile of pizza boxes over there." She points to some black remains at a corner. "With the apartment in this state, a fire can spread within seconds, no problem. But what really aided the blaze was gasoline."

You frowned. "So Jeremy was tied to a chair and somebody, or a few, set fire to his apartment by drenching him and his furniture in gasoline?"

"Apparently, yes. Whoever he offended must have wanted him to die a terrible death. He was burnt alive."

"Thanks, Rachel." You stood up and exited the apartment as Mike followed after. The fresh air was welcomed when you stepped out and made the call back to your Captain, notifying him of your findings. You finished the call and turned back to Mike. "I'm sure it's the Lopez. He snitched on them and their families have been at knife's point for years now. I'm not surprised if this was done by them." You explained as you walked the short distance with Mike back to your vehicle.

"But how?" Mike asked as he rounded the vehicle. He spoke again when he settled into the driver's seat.

"I mean, only the two of us knew that he ratted on them."

"Somebody else knew. If not, why would the shipment cancel so suddenly?"

"I don't get it."

"I'm pretty darn sure it's the Lopez. But I think it'll be better if we have some proof." You gritted your teeth, trying not to let anger override your rationality.

"I agree."

"I know of a secret bar that only the Brown members are allowed in. I'll try to gather some information from there tonight."

"Do you need me to tag along?"

"I'll be fine. Maybe you can try and stick around at the lab to see if there's any information the forensics found. And I'll send you a text before I go in. If I didn't send you a second text in an hour, send help."

"Understood." Mike nodded. "Pierce?" You turned to Mike and raised an eyebrow in question. "Stay safe."

"I will."

* * *

You brought your knuckles against the door and knocked three times - thud thud, thud.

A man lifted the metal flap and peered through the space, his eyes were bloodshot and glazed.

"What."

"Nightingale."

He pulled away from the door and you heard the door being unlocked. The door swung open and the man stood back, letting you pass before shutting it behind you and locking it. "It's Freaky Friday." The man who opened the door for you said as he wobbled to the chair near the door and took a seat. He gestures with the beer bottle in his hand towards the crowd.

You chance a look around and noticed that most of the members were dressed in peculiar costumes, but not all. There were normal looking people wearing their usual clothes while some had fake fangs in between their lips. "Cool."

"Enjoy yourself, lady."

With a white tank top topped with leather jacket and black skinny jeans, you easily blended into the crowd. You spotted the various different men having different inked Chinese characters. You sigh, wishing that you had taken the language courses offered in the academy. It would've been helpful if you knew the meanings of the different complicated characters.

You approach the bar and orders a pint of beer. The bar is empty except for a woman seated two seats to your left. A faint chuckle reached your ears and you turned to face the source of laughter.

"Are you stalking me, Pierce?" She said as you turned on the bar stool to face her. Your eyes widen in recognition and you watch her every movement. She called you Pierce instead of detective. But it's no surprise since you were in a bar owned by the Browns and chaos will surely ensue if they knew that they have a cop amongst them, in their territory.

You smiled and handed the bartender a few bills before you turned your attention to her. You waited until the bartender was out of earshot before speaking. "You shouldn't be here."

She took a sip of her martini before she spoke. "I could have said the same to you." She was not that stupid to not know that she's in a bar that belongs to the Brown's, the ones that she massacred a dozen of their men. If they knew about either of them, the night wasn't going to end easy.

"What are you doing here anyway?" You brought the glass to your lips and took a sip.

"People watching."

You snorted and her eyes went to your lips. You brought the back of your hand up and wiped your lips with it. "What's so fascinating?"

She took her martini and lifted herself off the bar stool to take a seat on the one nearest to you and she motioned to one of the man with a spiked blonde tipped hairstyle. "See his tattoo?" You followed her line of sight and nod. "The character on his neck means love. A few of them have similar characters. It's like they're grouped according to the Chinese characters inked on them." She jutted her chin towards another male with shaggy brown locks. "His means wealth."

"You can read Chinese?"

She hummed a response as you continued watching the crowd hustling around the small bar.

The main reason why you here was because you wanted to get some information out of the few unknowing members. Intel was scarce and since nobody knew of you, yet, you can infiltrate their territories with lesser chances of being recognized.

"Tonic and gin."

You turned your body around to face the bar as two men took a seat two spaces beside you. The Latina followed suit and both of you sat in silence as you two sipped on the alcohol in your hands.

"Patricks got burnt to death in his house."

"He deserved it. He snitched on one of the families. We may be mafia but we don't rat."

"They say it's the Lopez."

"He's stupid enough to get involved with the Lopez."

"I heard that Will isn't the one taking over the family."

"I've heard, too. And they said that the Motta have joined the Lopez."

"I wonder how."

"It's a fucking confusing world out there, man."

They clinked their glasses together before getting off the bar and headed over to congregate with some other men in the bar.

You had heard what you needed. You were not the only one that suspected that the Lopez was behind the foul play of Jeremy Patricks' death. However, you had a dozen questions pertaining the mysterious Tomb Raider swirling in your mind. _Why is she here? How did she know of the safe code the Browns use? Is she insane, for coming here after massacring so many of their soldiers? Who exactly is she?_

You brought the glass up to your lips and watched her every movement as the liquid seeped into your mouth. The frothy liquid swirled around your mouth, coating them with a carbonated bitterness before sliding down your throat.

She slid off her bar stool to leave and you quickly gulped down the last of the liquid before following her. Your nose picked up the mild scent of her perfume and a faint whiff of cigar. The musky smell of cheap cigarettes that linger in the air of the bar couldn't even mask the scent permeating your senses.

Both of you were about to make it out of the back exit when a voice boomed behind you. "Hey!"

Your muscles tensed and twitched, ready to take off in the opposite direction of the man but the woman before you stopped and turned around. Your toes curl in the sneakers you have chosen to wear tonight in an attempt to quell the itch to run away and avoid any confrontation. Her eyes met yours for a second before going to the man behind you. You followed her movements, you turned to come face to face with a bulky man. The tattoo on his neck is similar to the one Rosario pointed out to you earlier. The one that represented 'love'.

"How can I help you?" Rosario speaks with such ease and feigned comfort that you think she could have been a great detective if she actually joined the academy.

"I haven't seen you guys around before." He looked down at the both of you with a hint of arrogance in his eyes.

"I'm sure, darling. I haven't seen you before as well." The Latina retorted and you remained quiet and watched the scene unfold before you.

His nostrils flared and you merely quirked an eyebrow when he looked over to you. Your muscle twitched as a trained response because under these circumstances, individuals were likely to attack or resort to violence. "I'm Brody. Sue's right hand man." He introduced himself.

"I'm Rosario." The Latina introduced herself before his eyes flickered to yours again.

"I'm Carly."

"You two are a sight for sore eyes. I haven't seen many women in this family for years." He cracked a grin and chanced a look behind his shoulder. "I should get going. It is my pleasure to meet you two." He takes both yours and Rosario's hand into his and gave a quick kiss to the knuckles of your hand before he released them and walked back into the bar.

"That went well." Tomb raider commented as you walk alongside her.

"You gave him your name." You gave Brody a fake name while the woman beside you didn't hesitate to spill her name.

"What?" Her head jerked a little before realization hit her. "Oh."

"Yeah..."

"It's no big deal." She waved it off with her hand. "But seriously, Carly?"

"At least I didn't say Carly Rae Jepsen." You defended your choice of fake name.

"What's with you and your obsession with singers? First Britney Spears, now Carly Rae Jensen. What's next? Beyoncé?" She shook her head slightly in amusement and you felt your lips curling into a smile.

You felt at ease around her - out of that tough detective facade.

"How about Katy?" You joked, because Beyoncé isn't a common name. Katy would have been a better choice.

"And my name will be Perry."

The walk out of the damp, beer bottled littered alley was short and both of you stopped at the boulevard of the empty street. You tucked your hands into the pocket of your skinny jeans and fidgeted on the spot.

"It was nice meeting you, detective. But seriously, stop stalking me." She smirked and you rolled your eyes at her.

"You wish, Rosario."

The smirk on her face vanished and her expression changed into a slightly serious one. "That isn't-" She stopped herself mid-sentence and shook her head. "I'll see you soon, detective." She didn't give you a chance to response or figure out what she was trying to say because her back was to you and she was already headed down the street.

* * *

"Glad you're back, Pierce." Stephen greeted you by your desk the moment you arrived back at the precinct. His head motioned towards his office before he walked away.

As usual, Mike was in the office before you and you take a seat beside him. Captain Stephen went around to his seat and he slid a new profile to both of you. The profile's photo is what catches your attention. Rosario.

Wrong. The profile name states: **Santana Lopez**

"We have a new player in the game. The girl is Ricardo Lopez's daughter. Her profile had been kept to the minimum by the Lopez until recently, we've seen her around with Holly Holiday and Ricardo's two bodyguard, Finn and Sam." The Captain explained and slid a second profile beside the one on Santana. "And she's not the only one." He pointed to the blonde profile. "Quinn Fabray, daughter of the District Attorney Russell Fabray, had been spotted with them as well. From what we've gathered from the district attorney, he stated that they have severed all ties with Quinn Fabray years ago. I want both of you to keep an eye out for them."

"Yes sir." With a salute, both of us exited the office and return to our respective desks.

You gritted your teeth and you felt like jackass for even believing her. She lied about her identity.

Okay, maybe she didn't lie. But she kept the truth from you. God damn it, she's Santana fucking Lopez! You slammed your balled fist onto your desk, gaining several wild stares from the remaining officers who were still in the precinct doing their paperwork and other minor offenders who were getting their statements recorded.

You didn't care. You were too peeved to give a damn about the others. The damn Lopez family that you have been trying so hard to take down had been right under your nose the entire time.

Rosario? Lucy? Your damn mistake was to even believe them. Their whole behavior that night was so smooth that you didn't catch any slip up on either of them. Either they had been in similar situations in the past, or they have rehearsed that damn false introduction many, many times. You were fuming. You had let a potential top-of-the-hit-list criminal go. And she made use of the knowledge that you were a detective to her own advantage.

No wonder the shipment that night got cancelled. No wonder Jeremy Patricks' house got torched and no fucking wonder why she was at the bar earlier tonight. You felt like an idiot to have been played around by her and you were the one responsible for so much shit happening. It felt like karma to you. You let that one Tomb Raider go and everything piled on you. It was even worse than a pile of paperwork. Maybe you should have brought her in the very first time you met her.

But the point was, you didn't. You let her go.

"Are you alright?"

You took a few deep breaths before you turned to face your partner. He had a look of concern on his face and you shook your head slowly. "I'm fine."

He nodded and accepted your answer, even though he most probably saw through the lie. "Did you find out anything from the trip to the bar?"

"The Browns suspect that the Lopez were behind the foul play as well. But they don't seemed to be so much affected by the death of their own, considering how Jeremy snitched on another family. Nobody seemed to be intent on avenging their own, yet." You left out the part where you were with Santana and how she helped you to recognize several of the family's groupings. "Also, I have a name. Brody. He's Sue Sylvester's right hand man, or so he claimed."

"Brody, as in Brody Weston?"

"I'm not so sure. Hang on, let me check." You flipped open your laptop and typed in the name. The names flash through your 14-inch laptop screen and stopped at one particular profile. You clicked on the profile and the man's face appeared. "That's him."

"He has previous records of notoriety. They call him Pride because apparently his pride is the most important thing to him. Somebody once made a crude comment about him and let's just say he died a pretty ugly death. Everybody knew it was him, considering how the man died – his insides were all removed and placed neatly beside his cut open body. But there wasn't any proof. The entire crime scene was clean and nobody found any evidence." Mike scrolled his profile as he spoke.

"Doesn't that kind of coincide with the case Stephen assigned to us? The disemboweled bodies?"

Mike straightened out and looked into your eyes with a straight face. "Snap. We have a serial killer on the loose."

"We need to gather more information on the few deaths, find out if they were involved with Brody in any way before we can actually pin something on him."

"It's late now. Tomorrow morning we'll go visit the families of the deceased and try to see if they knew anything about the deceased's relationships with Brody, if any. I suggest we go home and catch up on our sleep before we start the excruciating long day tomorrow." Mike suggested and you couldn't have agreed more. The day had been a hell of a rollercoaster and you needed some rest if you were going to give it your all tomorrow.

For now, Santana was thrown to the back of your mind as you focus on the actual assignment your Captain had assigned you. You were supposed to solve the case of the disemboweled bodies and you may have just found your first clue towards your big break. As for the Lopez, it had become something personal between you, and the Latina that claimed to be known as Rosario.


	6. Chapter 5: Caporegimes

**A/N: So I have a question to the readers, and please do review your responses and what you think of the story alright :). Okay so my question is, would you guys prefer to read in a first person or third person's? I'm sorry if I keep changing it but yeah it's kind of important to see it from both POV. Story beta-ed by gleeeeeeeek89! Warning for slight BDSM mentions. But for the rest of you who are wondering, there will be no Bram, no Dantana. This is a Brittana fic. I'll try my best to update every week if me/my beta isn't too busy alright!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Glee.**

**Blueskkies - Thank you :)**

**Southgirl - Sorry for the slight confusion. No, Brittany do not know that Rosario is Santana because Rosario is a fake name used by Santana to get around. **

* * *

**Chapter 5: Caporegimes**

**You Are Now Santana Lopez**

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but you have delayed payments twice, Mister Anderson."

"Y-yes." He was panicking and he knew that he was in deep trouble because he lagged behind in payment and the people in his shop were not the friendliest people around. "Please, give me more time. Business hasn't been very good lately."

"Give me one good reason why we shouldn't just sell your shop to someone who can actually pay. One."

You looked around the shop as Finn towered before the cowered man, whose livelihood was being threatened. The small snack bar was almost empty, except for the few tables and chairs placed in the open space of the small shop for patrons, if there were any. Sandwiches and salads lined in the small glass display at the counter. You looked up at the chalked menu and stepped beside Finn.

"Can I have a Hawaiian pizza and one of your specialty pizzas?" You interrupted the poor man's pleas as you stepped up beside Finn. Your bodyguard gave you a confused glance and you just motioned for him to take a seat at the table where Holly and Sam were seated. He nodded and left, leaving you at the counter. "And a bottle of diet coke."

His demeanor noticeably lightened up and he smiled as he nodded frantically. "Coming right up!"

You returned to the only table that was seated with people. Sam had on a stoic expression while Finn looked like someone threw a college grade math question at him. Holly merely shook her head with a knowing smile on her face.

Quinn was out with her friends and you were kind of glad she didn't tag along because as much as you needed Quinn as your clique, to ground you, you didn't want her to play a villain.

"Finn, I know what you're thinking." His head snapped up to you and his lips parted to form an 'o'. "To answer your question, I'm hungry. And I think all of us are. You're getting cranky and I think we should eat."

Sam snorted and Finn shot him a glare, but that only made him laugh. You smiled because this was the first time your two male bodyguards actually let their cold demeanor drop to actually be themselves around you. So you took it as progress. You were not sure how they behaved around your father but you were planning to make them feel more at ease around you. "You two can speak, you know. You don't have to mute yourselves while you're around me and also, the two of you aren't in the army. I'm not your general."

"It's just different." Sam spoke up. The blonde had always been the bolder one between the two even though Finn appeared to be the menacing one. You nodded to let him know that he had your attention and a motion for him to continue. "Being with you as compared to Ricardo feels different. Not a bad kind of different but it's still something that we're getting accustomed to."

"Okay, so enlighten me." You teased as you leaned forward with your arm on the table. "How did Ricardo treat you guys? Finn, go first."

His eyes widen but he spoke. "He's nice, like really nice. He treats us like his family. Sometimes I feel like I can do no wrong with him guiding me, although everything about this is wrong."

You laughed at his words and he seemed to realize what he just said because he uttered a 'oh shit'.

"How about you, Sam?" You turned to the blonde and you noticed his downcast eyes accompany the slight smile he had on his face.

"He treated us like his equal. Not once did he used his superiority over us and that's just how he is." He recalled the memory of your deceased father. His eyes were on the wooden table as he spoke but he looked up after a slight pause. "You remind me of Ricardo."

The atmosphere at the table changed due to the subject topic – your father. It was still a sore subject, but you were coping. You didn't have the urge to throw up the moment somebody spoke about him anymore. Forlorn smiles were exchanged between you and Sam before you turned to Holly who was looking at you with an intrigued expression. So you directed your attention to her. "And you?"

"I've told you before, Santana."

"You told me that both of you had a platonic relationship, not how he treats you." You remembered Holly making it clear to both you and Quinn that there was nothing going on between her and your father. You didn't doubt her because if there was anything going between him and her, he would have stopped visiting your mother's grave with flowers.

But, he didn't.

"He was a fine man, Ricardo. Like Sam said, he treated people around him as his equal. He listened to our input and he asked us to join him for meals, when he was not with you girls, of course."

You smiled at that, because frankly, you barely remembered the last time he actually had time to have a proper, undisturbed meal with you and Quinn. But you were glad that he didn't have to eat in solitude.

"Does he ask everybody?"

"If by everybody you meant even those soldiers and runners, no. He never crosses the line of being too friendly with everyone. Not everyone can be trusted, lil Lopez." Holly explained to you and you realized that you were not much different from your father. You didn't like to be the one that stood above others alone. You preferred to have a place among the others who you felt you could trust.

"Sorry for the wait." Anderson interrupted and brought the two pizzas in his hands down onto the table. He ran back to the counter and returned with a bottle of diet coke and four glasses. "Bon appetit!"

Finn offered to pour the carbonated drink into the various glasses before he settled back into his seat. The table settled into a comfortable silence as you delved into the pizzas on the table. The pizzas actually tasted quite good and you started to wonder why business was so bad that he was running late on payment. You were not sure if you were used to doing things the mafia way, but you had to learn, and learn fast. Because in this world, it was survival of the fittest; show any sign of weakness and _bam_, you're dead.

Your eyes wandered as you ate and you caught sight of two teenagers, probably only a few years younger than you, looking in your general direction. They were hiding behind the kitchen wall and you caught the taller boy's blue eyes. There was a mixture of confusion and anger behind his glare and he tore away from the wall first, followed by the younger boy.

"Does Anderson have a family?" You asked between bites of pizzas.

"He's a single dad with two kids." Holly answered.

"How old are they?"

"The older one, name is Cooper, he's fresh out of high school, nineteen. The younger boy is Blaine and he's sixteen."

You were kind of wondering if Holly was an encyclopedia for the family. "What happened to their mother?"

"She got involved with one of the soldiers."

You didn't need an explanation for that, so you nodded your head in response to her answer. The morality rules of the mafia world never needed any explanation. One way or another, all you knew was that – she was dead.

Since you were done eating, you stood up and left the table. You walked over to the counter where Anderson had been watching you from behind and you leaned forward. You motioned for him to lean forward with your index finger and you whispered into his ear. "I'll give you one more month. The next time they don't collect anything, I'm not sure what they're going to do." You caught sight of the older Anderson that Holly mentioned, glaring at you from the kitchen.

"I understand." He uttered under his breath as you pulled away.

You offered him a smile as you pulled back and placed a fifty dollar bill on the counter. "Keep the change."

"Thank you, Miss…" He started, unsure of who you were.

"Lopez." You finished for him.

"Thank you, Miss Lopez." He repeated with his head bowed.

You waved his gratitude off and walked out of the shop. The two men lead the way to the vehicle that was parked several shops away from the Anderson's snack bar. You were about to get into the vehicle when a voice stopped you.

"Hey, wait!"

Sam stepped forward towards the approaching teen, but you put your hand on his abdomen and stopped him. You nodded your head to assure him that it was fine and he took a few steps back, but was still close enough to step in should anything happen.

The two Anderson boys stopped before you and you waited for them to speak.

"We know who you are." Your eyebrows arched at his words. "You're the mafia."

"And?"

"We want to join your family."

"This is not a game, kid." Sam stepped beside you. He was twenty-six, seven years older than you, so you can say he's senior enough to take a stand since he had been with your family for a longer period of time than you were actually involved. "You don't know what you're getting into."

"We're not kids, blondie." You pinched your lips together to prevent the laughter from escaping. That kid had more guts that most of the soldiers in your family, to actually insult Sam even after knowing that he was in the mafia.

Sam huffed and he stepped forward, angling his chin higher to look more threatening. They were almost the same height, but Sam was heavier built than Cooper.

"Brother, stop." Blaine pulled Cooper's forearm to get him to back off.

"I'm not afraid of him." Cooper snarled as he held Sam's glare.

Finn opened the car door and stood behind you. "Is something wrong here?"

You shook your head and you decide that it was time to end their childish banter. "Look, Cooper." He averted his eyes away from Sam to meet yours when you addressed him. "You're in college and your brother is in high school. Both of you have a path carved out for you."

"You threatened our dad and you tell us we have a path?"

"We had a deal. We provided him the shop and in exchange, he pays us a monthly fee. It's called business."

"Business my ass! Legal businesses don't have people armed with guns go into their shops and threaten them." Both Finn and Sam maintained their composure as Cooper snapped at you, and you were thankful for that.

"Legal or not, it's still business. Your father was the one that agreed to it."

"Then we'll work for you, we'll help pay his debt!" Blaine spoke up for the first time and you looked at him. You almost laughed because his innocent child demeanor was never going to help him in the mafia world because most people would just wave him off.

"Look, I gave your dad a chance that I never gave to anybody else. I gave it to him because he has two kids." Your eyes switched between the two Anderson brothers. "Two kids that are still in school. He struggles for both of you and if you're any wiser, complete your education and get a _legal_ job so that he won't have to worry about both of you."

Cooper's expression softened at your words and he contemplated for a moment before he stepped back. "I'm sorry."

"You two should get back before your dad thinks I kidnapped the both of you because he couldn't pay up." You joked, trying to ease the tension between the men. "Do me a favor and stay in school."

"Thank you," Blaine smiled as he pulled his brother away, towards the shop that you had just exited.

Sam turned to you and you shrugged. He breathed out a sigh and shook his head, but you caught that subtle smile on his face.

"That was quite a show." Holly put away her iPad the moment the three of you reentered the car. "You're soft, Santana."

"Sue me."

The car echoed in laughter and you joined them. You may be handling a mafia, but sometimes, you followed your heart, which might have not have been a bad idea.

"But are you sure you're going to let Anderson free for another month?"

"Yes, Finn. We have worse slobs to go after."

He smirked and pulled the car away from the curb. "Yes, boss."

Quinn returned with Sebastian in tow. "I saw him while I was leaving the café so I hitched a ride with him."

You greeted them with a nod of your head. You were currently trying to look over the documents that you father had left behind and to be honest, your head was starting to hurt from the dense compilation of information.

Holly entered and she greeted the duo with hugs before she turned her attention to you. "Santana, I'm bringing you to meet one of the caporegime that runs an exotic club."

Your brows furrowed at the mention of 'exotic' but you sighed and pushed yourself off the chair. You needed the fresh air anyway.

"Are the two of you coming?" Holly directed her question towards Quinn and Sebastian whom nodded in response. "Great!"

The club was not what you had expected at all. You were cringing from time to time and you clung onto Quinn who was equally as disturbed as you were. You were both holding on to each other for the fear of someone, or something, to appear out of nowhere, but Holly and Sebastian walked alongside each other with amused expressions on their faces. Holly must have gotten used to the weird nature of the club so it didn't faze her, but Sebastian looked downright intrigued. He glanced side to side at the different doors and his signature smirk was plastered across his face. It usually meant trouble.

"Oh yeah!"

The grip on your arm tightened and you turned to Quinn whose face was turning slightly green. You squeezed back to try and ease Quinn's uneasiness while you tried and quell yours. The 'exotic' club that Holly mentioned was a BDSM club and you were kind of unprepared for this.

You knew what the club was about. You had heard of them before but you have never actually stepped foot into one, until today. Finn and Sam were following close behind and when you chanced a look over your shoulder, Sam was trying to appear nonchalant but failed due to his creased eyebrows and his eyes darted all over the place, and Finn actually looked like he was going to hurl any moment.

"I'm your slut." There was a muffled voice.

"I can't hear you!"

"I'm your slut!" It was clearer this time and you stepped a little further away from the room as you walk past it.

Holly pushed open one of the doors and you followed suit. You looked hesitantly at the couches in the room and the others, except Holly and Sebastian, had similar thoughts.

"The couch is clean, don't worry."

A man with curly brown locks entered the room with two bodyguards by his side. They moved and stood behind the couch that the man sat on.

"Santana, this is Matt Rutherford. He's the owner of this club."

"Santana." You shook his hand before you took a seat with Quinn on one of the couches. Sebastian looked like he made himself at home since he was pouring himself a cup of chardonnay that was on the glass table. Finn and Sam, alike to Matt's bodyguard, took position behind the couch you and Quinn were seated on.

"I've heard about you, Santana." He smiled as he poured himself a glass of wine. "You have quite the guts."

"Tell me something I don't know."

He laughed before he took a sip of his drink. "A sense of humor too."

"Matt here has been with the family for several years now." Holly chipped in.

"Which area are you under?" You asked as your eyes scanned the room. It resembled the one Al Motta had, but it was less shady and there weren't strippers around.

"Drugs." He replied without hesitation.

You nodded and looked around. "What do you do around here?"

"I wait and see if there's any subs who are looking for a dom." He set his glass down and quirked his eyebrow. "Are you interested in that, Miss Lopez?"

Your eyes almost bugged out of your sockets and you shook your head. "No, I'm just curious."

"Well, I can show you around, if you're curious."

"If that's not much hassle, Mister Rutherford."

"Please, call me Matt." He stood up and motioned for you to follow him.

You were disturbed, yes. But, that might be the first and last time you were going to be stepping foot into an 'exotic' club, so you planned to make the most out of it.

He guided the few of you down the corridor into one of the vacant rooms. It was dimly lit and you could see several items that were perched on hooks - collars, dildos, and candles. "This is what they would call the dungeon. Most people make use of the items available for extra and intense sexual pleasures. Most people will choose a role. A dominant, or a submissive. The dominant will be the one that takes control of their sexual experiences and ultimately, the one that decides if the submissive gets to enjoy the experience or not. A submissive usually volunteers to offer themselves to the dominant in exchange for the sexual pleasures that it accompanies. Most submissives find they enjoy being the one having with zero control and actually love it when people command them. Both the submissive and the dominant have an agreement between them that should the dominant overstep the boundaries that they have set, a submissive have the rights to request them to stop. Some do it for pure sex, some actually developed a relationship between them." He stopped and glanced between you, Quinn, Finn, and Sam. "Are you people alright with public nudity?"

Sam cleared his throat and nodded his head, Finn followed suit. They were obviously trying to play it cool and you found yourself chuckling a little. Quinn squeezed your bicep and you took it as a no. "It's alright, Matt. You can show it to the guys. I'm fine with Quinn." Your interest was slightly piqued, but if Quinn was uncomfortable with it, you were going to stay with her.

"I'm fine, Santana. You can go." Quinn seemed to have read your thoughts as she whispered to you and you shook your head. You refused to follow after Matt. She sighed and gave you a gentle smile. "Thank you."

"People can choose to sit in on some of the ongoing role play that the pair of dom-sub agrees on letting other people watch." He pushed open one of the doors and both the bodyguards' jaws dropped. Matt laughed at their reaction before he pushed both of them out the door and shut it behind them. "Both of you are still responsible for the safety of our leader, so control yourselves."

Their jaws snapped shut and they nodded their head to what Matt said and followed him back to where you and Quinn were. He continued with his tour and led the group to a room where several people were sitting around. Some had collars around their neck and some had cold expressions on their faces. When your group walked past, Matt explained that those wearing collars were submissive. The collar mostly represented them submitting to another, due to the fact that collars are closely associated with pets. Some dominants call themselves masters and their submissive slaves, giving rise to the intention of a collar because they owned them.

"Isn't that humiliating?"

Matt turned to Quinn with an amused expression before he shook his head. "Some of them love the collar on their neck because they feel that they're adored by their owners. It may sound humiliating to you, but there are people who enjoy it being around their neck." He opened another room and this time, the room was filled with whips, belts, ropes and several other torture devices. "This is the punishment room. Between a dominant and a submissive, the dom has the rights to 'punish' the submissive should they do anything that wasn't of the dominant's liking. For example, if a dom commands a sub not to touch themselves in their absence and they catch the sub misbehaving, they have the rights to punish the sub. Different doms punish their subs differently. Some would spank them, some would tie the sub up and deny any movements and forces the sub to watch the dom please themselves, some use devices on the subs' sensitive parts and some actually bring their subs towards the edge to leave them hanging. It differs."

You shuddered. The thought of someone leaving you high and dry made you frustrated and you made a mental note not to do that to anybody.

"We should get going." Holly stated after she took a look at the schedule she had arranged for you. "Thank you for your time, Matt."

"My pleasure to have finally met the infamous daughter of Ricardo." He smiled as he walked your group to the entrance of the club. "I hope to see you again."

You nodded politely before you followed after Holly to the car.

"Well… that was fun." Sebastian commented as he stopped by your car. "But I gotz to go."

Quinn hugged him briefly before she let him go. You stepped forward and wrapped your arms around his torso, your nose took in the familiar scent of cologne and you sighed against him before you pulled away. "I'll see you soon, Seb."

He smiled and turned to your two bodyguards and gave a two fingers salute. "Take care of this bitch for me."

"We will."

"Bye Holly!" Sebastian called as he entered his Cabriolet. You had no idea what his deal was, but he seemed to have a habit of changing his car every few months. But, who were you to comment on his habits when you changed your personal car every now and then.

You watched him drive off and then got into the car. Figgins got the day off because Holly wanted the whole capo visits to be known only to the few of you therefore Sam offered to drive for today. Holly sits with you and Quinn in the backseat while Finn took the passenger seat. Once buckled, the car moved to the next location.

"Holly!" The man greeted as he approached Holly. He shook her hand and beamed as he looked over to Finn and Sam, then his eyes flickered to you and Quinn. "And who are these two ladies over here?"

"Santana Lopez." You offered your hand and he took it, giving it a firm shake.

"Quinn." The blonde offered her hand as well and he gave it an equally firm shake then he stepped back.

"I've heard about you, Santana. Your father must be raging in his grave for you took over his business." He joked and you shrugged. "But you are one daring woman."

"This is Michael Chang Senior." _Senior? Is there a junior around here?_ You wondered as you followed his lead into the restaurant. The Asian man led your crew into a more secluded corner where his family was and you recognize the younger male Asian immediately. His eyes widened when he saw you and both of you held each other's gaze for a moment. You had a few questions in mind, but you didn't want to ruin the jovial mood by questioning him at that moment.

He smiled and offered his hand. "Mike Chang."

"You were with Pierce."

"Yes, I am."

You narrowed your eyes at him before you turned to Holly for an explanation. "Mike is with us."

Then it clicked. Apart from the various low profile illegal businesses and multiple legal businesses handled by unknowing businessmen, the Lopez have insiders. You never knew. But then again, you never asked. So you opted to a simple nod of your head. There was always time for clarification later.

"I'm Tina. Tina Cohen-Chang." A young female Asian offered her hand and you shook it.

"Are you guys related?"

The Asian family burst into laughter and you kind of felt like you had embarrassed yourself.

"No," Tina replied as she shook her head. "I'm their consigliere"

"Oh, sorry." You apologized and turned to the last of the unknown Asians. "And you are…"

"Julia Chang." She smiled at you.

So you pieced the information together. Mike Chang was the son of Michael and Julia, while Tina was their advisor. An Asian caporegime. Also, Mike was a mole that the Lopez had planted in to the law enforcement scene.

Several waiters and waitresses approached and put down several plates of dishes.

"I hope you guys don't mind Chinese. That's all I have here."

"Will I mind food? No way." You joked. You were trying to get in the good grace of the caporegimes and you didn't like the thick awkward tension, so you tried to lighten the atmosphere up.

"You are a striking resemblance to your father, Santana." Michael said with a shake of his head. You weren't sure if that was a good or a bad thing.

"Appearance or behavioral wise?"

"Both." He said as he picked up his chopsticks and motioned for everyone to eat. "He was never an uptight person, but he knew when to be serious."

"That's only because Santana is a glutton and she just wants to eat." You shot Quinn a glare as everybody laughed at your expense. Your face scrunched up in a mock glare and you turned to the dishes placed in front of you. You were too hungry to argue with Quinn now so you let it slip and dove into the spread in front of you.

It was almost silent except for the clinking of porcelain utensils and the small buzz of the other restaurant patrons. As you ate, you were trying to come up with ways to make your questioning sound less sharp. You didn't want to leave with a bad impression, and you sure as hell weren't going to start making enemies so early in the days of your control.

You set your chopsticks down and sipped on the cup of tea as you waited for the others to finish their food. Dishes got cleared by the males at the table and the waiters came around to collect the polished plates.

"So…" You started and all eyes fell on you. You smiled to make yourself look less threatening as you spoke, but that probably ended up with you looking like you were trying to hide a knife behind your smile. "Mike."

He nodded.

"You were the one that informed us that J. Patricks from the Browns snitched on us."

He nodded again.

"But…"

He sighed and straightened up, knowing where you were going with the 'but'. "I wasn't able to inform anyone about it because I was with Pierce for the whole day. We're newly assigned as partners and I didn't want her to get suspicious."

"How is it like working with her?"

He seemed taken aback by your change in question. "She's sharp, and informative. She had access to one of the Brown's private bars."

You smirked and leaned back against your chair. "That, I know. I saw her."

"You went into their territory alone?" Holly glared at you and you shrugged. But you sensed a lecture coming from the older blonde later.

"I was information gathering."

She frowned. "What did you gather?"

"I gathered that they suspect that we're behind Jeremy's sudden death, but they said he deserved it for snitching." You recalled. "And Pierce can't read Chinese."

The table laughed, except Holly who was still staring at you. She hadn't shown her 'unfriendly' side yet, and you didn't think you wanted to know or experience it.

"You can read Chinese?" Julia quirked an eyebrow and you nodded. "Now that's something you don't see every day."

"Quinn and I both got enrolled in language classes by papi."

You recalled how reluctant you were when your father told you you're going to be learning a foreign language together with Quinn. To make matters worse, you were to learn Chinese. The damn subject that have words that looks so freakishly similar, but had a total different meaning. The different strokes, pronunciation, and whatnot. It almost drove you insane.

"Why didn't he just send both you girls to us? We could have taught you girls."

"He probably didn't want to add additional stress on you because we weren't the best behaving kids around."

"So you think we can't handle two girls?"

"Oh no, we think that you can't handle two Lopez'." Quinn answered jokingly. You noticed a waiter wearing the restaurant's uniform and his hair was neatly combed back, lurking behind one of the room dividers. The moment he caught you staring, he turned and walked away. You ignored the conversation and left abruptly to go after the man, Finn and Sam followed fast behind.

The man looked over his shoulder and when he realized that you were moving towards him, he picked up his pace and he pushed forward to a full sprint. Sam gave Finn a nod and they separated – Finn followed closely behind you while Sam dashed to the back exit. Waiters and waitresses tried to stop Sam from entering the kitchen, but the blonde dodged them and exited the restaurant via the back exit.

"Stop!" Finn yelled as he chased.

With his head turned back to look at Finn, he failed to notice the other blonde that had taken another route to get him. He bumped into Sam's steady posture and tumbled back, and he dropped onto the floor. He tried to push himself off the floor at another escape attempt but Sam dragged his foot under the man's legs to trip him. He fell face down onto the pavement and Finn grabbed his arm and hauled him up the moment he caught up with the escaping waiter.

You recognized him. He was the one that ordered Gin and Tonic in the bar that you snuck into. His eyes widen in recognition, but you shut him up even before he had a chance to speak. "Hi, again. It's a pity that we meet again, because you're about to lose something very precious to you. If I let you go, you would probably run to Sue Sylvester and tell her I've been sneaking around in her territory."

"I won't t-"

"I'm not finished." You raised your finger and your steely glare silenced him. "You're in the Mafia. You should know how it works. This world, is a vicious world. I'm sorry I can't let you off."

You turned to Sam and motioned for him to lower himself so you could whisper to him. "Normally, how would my papi react in this kind of situation?"

"He would give us two choices and lets us decide which one to use on the man"

"Okay…" You turned back to the man and considered for a moment. He was silent. He knew the consequences of getting caught by a rival family. "One, kill him and get rid of his body – the simplest method. Or two, there is a saying in Chinese in which you tie his arms and legs to a horse and send the horses in opposite directions, pulling his limbs off. But, that'll be quite messy. Just make sure he won't be able to speak, or even write about it to anybody."

"Yes ma'am." Sam tugged on the man's arm and pulled him along as they made their way back to the restaurant.

"I'll catch up." You called to Finn and Sam, and they nodded in response. You decided to take a walk around the vicinity because you hadn't really been out on the streets since the day you went all machine gun at the Brown's, the day when it all changed.

It was nice to be out in the open. You strolled along the streets for a while then you decided to turn back to the restaurant where the rest were waiting for you. But, before you had the chance to step into the restaurant, you were approached by an angry blonde.

"You're a fucking Lopez."

"Right…" You drawled. "And you're a Pierce." You raised an eyebrow at the angry blonde before you. She was something, and you couldn't wrap your finger around it. Her eyes were narrowed and her action screamed, 'I'm pissed'. Your joke didn't seem to faze her because her brows were furrowed and her lips were pursed. You guessed this wasn't the time for pleasantries.

The corner of your lips curled up involuntarily and you extended your hand towards her. "Hi, I'm Santana Lopez." You left the second part of your identity out. The part where you introduced yourself as the head of the Lopez Family. You didn't want to associate the family with her.

Her brows twitched and the fury behind her eyes was mixed with confusion that made her eyes somehow, softer, but still held that bit of hostility. It took her a moment before she caught up with your intention. She lowered her head as a small smile grazed her features and her slender fingers met yours. "Brittany S. Pierce, not Spears."

You chuckled at the reference. She didn't change the way she introduced herself. The one that changed was you. You were not hiding your identity from her any longer. She knew the truth and you saw no need to hide it from her.

You were quick to pull your hand away from her and you stepped away because you caught the subtle movement of her free hand moving behind her back. Your eyebrow arched and you bit down on your lower lip to contain a grin that was about to sketch itself across your face. "Uh uh, detective." You shook your head put your hands up as you started to step away from her.

Her jaw clenched and you beamed at her. Then, you turned on your heels and took off in the opposite direction of her. You heard the faint scuffing of shoes behind you and you knew she was chasing after you. Your heart sped up as you pushed yourself faster, further away from the detective. The adrenaline coursing through you was making you kind of delirious because you were laughing, in the midst of running away from a cop.

You chanced a look over your shoulder and she was still running after you. You take a sharp left and dodged the small crowd of pedestrians smoothly, avoiding any collision. A familiar black sedan screeched to a halt beside you and you smirked. You pulled open the door and slipped into the vehicle as it tore down the street even before you could close the door completely. You reeled the window down and poked your head out. "Later, Sherlock!" You waved to her and watched as she slowed down to a stop on the sidewalk.

Brittany huffed and kicked the pole near her as she watched the car careened the street. She took a mental note of the vehicle number and let out a grunt of frustration, earning the curious glances of several pedestrians.


End file.
